


A Savage Inconvenience

by essenceanddescent



Series: Straining for Originality [1]
Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Better Than Canon, Better than Season 4, Dragonflies, Duct Tape, F/M, Plot, Poetry, Replaces Season 4, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 124
Words: 304,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essenceanddescent/pseuds/essenceanddescent
Summary: Mr. Quinlan finds himself in a most precarious situation. Alone, wounded, and restrained, he is forced, yet again, to choose between his humanity and his survival.

ℹ️️ This story follows the TV Canon loosely, taking place after Season 3 and replacing Season 4 entirely.  It also uses and expands upon existing Novels/Graphic Novels canon to weave it all together.





	1. Book Cover

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer 1:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. 
> 
> Copyright © 2017 Richelle Tallowman. All rights reserved.
> 
>  **Disclaimer 2:** This fic does contain some explicit content, but rather than mark the _entire_ fic as such, instead I've marked those chapters with warnings.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/essence_descent) | [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/strainingfororiginality) | [Tumblr](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com)
> 
> This is my very first fanfic. I would love some feedback!
> 
> I hope you enjoy my little world of The Strain.
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ


	2. 1.1 - Catch

When he woke, the first thought to cross his mind wasn’t that he was incapable of moving, but rather that the burning pain had completely subsided and  _ he was still alive _ .  As his eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light that flooded in caused him to wince and his body gave a slight jolt.  It was with this sudden movement that he realized he was helplessly restrained and his head throbbed  _ fiercely _ .

After several blinks, his eyes adjusted slowly to the intensity of the light and the blurry room around him came into focus.  He hated the light; it still overwhelmed his heightened senses, even now after so many years.  Forgetting for a moment that he was bound, he immediately moved to reach for his glasses ….

_ No, I can’t move … that’s right. _

The thoughts rolled across his mind as he came to terms with the severity of his current weakness.  He was disgusted with himself for being in this state; he knew better, but  _ again _ …  _ he was still alive _ .  He closed his eyes, shielding them from the light as he played the memories of last night through his mind, but they were only flashes, fast snapshots of images.

_ Hmm … last night? _  Was that even right?  It was daylight now, but he knew he really wasn’t sure how much time had passed since …  _ since what?  Gods.  What had happened again?   _ His head swam and he sighed heavily, thanking the gods the pain that had ripped through his body was gone.  This meant the silver rounds had been removed.

Opening his eyes again, the small room slowly bounced into sharp focus around him and he quickly realized what was restraining him so completely.  In other circumstances, this would have proven to be quite humorous, but he didn’t find it funny now.  He found it embarrassing and  _ inconvenient _ .  He was affixed to each side of a small metal bed frame with …  _ Duct Tape _ .  He blinked and looked around at himself again … Duct Tape?  Yes. Yes …  _ Bloody Duct Tape _ .   _ A LOT of it. _  He quickly noted that enough was used to leave 3 empty spindles on the floor just a few feet from the bed.

_ Damnation! _

Both of his arms were attached, solidly, from wrist to mid-humorous, and his legs, from knee all the way to ankle.  He could also feel the tape secured tightly around his mouth.  No, not just his head, it was wrapped around  _ his entire head _ .  He had no idea how many times, but looking at the three empty spindles again, he imagined quite a few.

_ What had happened? _

The memories were starting to return but they were just barely trickling in.

_ Oh yes … _ he thought to himself as one in particular flashed past his conscious mind.  He remembered  _ they _ had been …  _ they _ had been trying to hold him down.  He recollected the pain, and then  _ the need _ drove  _ the hunger _ and his savage nature had completely overwhelmed him.  He had attacked them.  The blinding pain and need to survive had driven him back to his animal instincts, but that was the last thing he remembered.

_ Them _ ?  No, No.  That wasn’t right.  There was only one and if he remembered correctly, it was a  _ her _ .   _ It was a tiny her. _  He couldn’t remember anything of detail other than her tiny frame as she struggled to get his silver bullet riddled body down the stairs, and away from the impending strigoi assault.  He had leaned heavily against her, letting her guide him completely as they navigated the internal maze of hallways of the industrial building.  

At his optimal state, he would have been able to rip through the makeshift restraints, but he was now surprised at their confining strength as he tried to flex his muscles through them.  He reconsidered that thought unsure if he should be more surprised at his state of weakness, rather than shocked at their strength, but he decided to shrug off this mental debate as it just made his head swim further.  His inability to focus on the task at hand was due to the fatigue.

_ GODS DAMN IT,  _ **_focus_ ** . … he commanded.

Dropping his head back onto the pillow, he began the futile attempt to see if he was strong enough to rattle the frame loose.  If he couldn’t rip the damn  _ tape _ , then maybe he could break the frame apart enough to free a hand and allow him to unwind it.  The frame was sturdy and his own body weight held it down snugly.  Gods damnit, he was  _ weak _ .  He  _ needed _ to feed. His body would heal fast, but it had already been over a day since he last fed even before the excursion to this wrecked old factory in the first place.

He closed his eyes tightly, breathing out heavily through his nostrils as he dismissed his growing anxiety.  Trying to rock himself free had done nothing but exhaust him further, and his frustration over his current state had caused his heart to start pounding.

_ Damnation _ .

He had things that he needed to do, important things.  He had a  _ destiny _ to fulfill!  He was  **_THE BORN_ ** , gods damnit …  **_the born_ ** , now tied to a rusty bed with bloody  _ Duct Tape _ .  He quickly decided that if he survived this experience, there would be NO mention of this to  _ anyone _ … especially Goodweather or Fet.  As the names skipped across the forefront of his mind, another memory rattled loose from the spider web of his clouded brain.  Goodweather, Fet, Setrakian, Gus and Dutch.

Oh gods …

His eyes darted open immediately as he realized he had  _ no idea _ what happened to rest of the team.  When they had become overwhelmed, he had lead the strigoi away from them, instructing them to return to their hideaway.

Had they gotten away?!?  His frustration finally culminated in a disgruntled moan and he pulled once more frantically at both of his arms with as much strength as he could muster before his weakness caused him to collapse back into the uncomfortably thin mattress.

In was in this brief moment of sad defeat that he heard the soft and distant footsteps trespass into his ears.

_ She was returning. _


	3. 1.2 - Catch

Her steps were distant still.  He guessed he had a few moments before she would arrive. He used that time to finally survey his immediate surroundings.  It was a small room, concrete walled with a solid metal door.  He noticed the makeshift metal latch supports on either side of the door.  They had been pieced together with metal fittings and drilled into the concrete with massive lag bolts.  He assumed this was done by her, as the dust from drilling still covered the floor around the door and the cordless drill itself sat on the floor idly next to the right of the frame.  The metal crossbar that obviously would rest inside of the supports was standing vertical and leaning against the wall just to the right of the door itself.

Before finally panning right with his survey, he noted the bedding that had been bunched up behind the entrance.  The door opened to the inside of the room, and though the crossbar gave some added security, he assumed she had been sleeping on the floor behind the door, and not on the bed at all. Likely driven by paranoia of being ambushed while she slept, he conjectured.  But, whatever the reason, it was obvious she had been here for a while.

There was a small table with a corresponding small metal chair in the far corner. A plethora of items covered the dirty little table.  Empty and full cans of food, bags of nuts, trail mixes, candy bars, bags of chips, bottles of water.  Yes, there obviously had been some pilfering of the building’s vending machines.  Along with the foods, a couple of first aid kits and lots of various tools.

The small chair itself is what immediately caught his eye, for this was the resting place of his coat and his weapons.  Thank the gods, _his weapons_!  The bone sword was still sheathed inside of the leather back harness.  The guns and his dagger rested on the seat, along with his boots. Ugh, she had taken off his _boots_ … embarrassment crept over him one more time.  He surveyed himself yet again, and found that was the only article, other than his coat, that she had removed.  At least she hadn’t stripped him like Dr. Goodweather had done. **_That curious bastard_**.

He looked around his body for the entry points of the bullets, and found large circular patterns had been cut out to allow her to gain access.  He affirmed this suspicion as his eyes caught the glimpse of the large pair of scissors among the other tools on the table.  The pieces of rent clothing were strewn across the floor.  She had been in a hurry and she had worked fast.  The wounds at the center of the holes were hidden with gauze and medical tape.  He mused to himself: ‘unnecessary’, but a standard human assumption.  The doctor had spent considerable time stitching his last wounds the last time he had been shot, but they would have healed either way.   His thoughts on his boots subsided as he assumed the boots were removed due to their silver claws causing possible damage to the bed and mattress.  Fair enough.

While observing the presence of the scissors, he noticed the large metal forceps covered in a distinctive white goo.  Next to the forceps, he saw the pile of shiny bits that had riddled his body into defectiveness.  He couldn’t count how many comprised the pile, but he surmised that it was easily over a dozen.  He conceded that he should indeed be dead.

He sighed … it had been a millennia since he had been that foolish.  They assumed that they had the drop on The Master, but something had been off.  They assumed this to be his base of operations, but nothing was here.  This hadn’t been his nesting place.  ‘Enough Quintus,’ he told himself squarely, ‘you will have more time to self assess _after_ this … predicament.’

Finishing up his audit of the room, a number of small cubed boxes, roughly 6” in size, lined the back wall.   _Curious_ … everything else in the room was in complete disarray, but these boxes had been hoarded with obvious care.  Stacked and seemingly organized: 48 boxes total, lined up in a 6x8 grid.  No, that wasn’t right, it was 2 deep, so 96 boxes total.   _Curious, indeed._  A number of large batteries and empty ceramic-based dome lights shared the rest of the small wall with the intriguing little boxes.

There were no windows and only one entry way.  This was a place of last stand. A makeshift panic room, at best.  She was a survivor and he took note that she had likely been here for a while.  Weeks?  No, more likely months.  Perhaps since the fall of New York? That was now two months passed.  Or possibly since even the beginning of the outbreak?

Her footsteps continued to close the distance between them.  He stared at the bottom of the door and at the sunlight peaking through.  Odd, he had assumed it was daylight, but the light seemed off.  A human would not likely have noticed the spectrum difference, but it wasn’t direct sunlight.  It was close and bright and his preternatural eyes could tell the UV that emanated from it, but it was not fluorescent.  It was much stronger.

The entire situation seemed more curious than precarious now.  He was alive and that was because of her somehow.  His position relaxed as he realized if she had wanted him dead, he likely wouldn’t be … _erm_ … restrained and alive. If she had wanted him dead, he simply would have never woken up.


	4. 1.3 - Catch

His mind darted back to the light that shown under the door, and as he relaxed, the events of that night finally worked their way out of his silver agony induced stupor. The light, _that light_ … Yes. He remembered it distinctly.

They had forced him onto his knees before the _Lap Dog_. The blood loss and the silver had prevented him from properly fighting back against the two strigoi who held him down on either side. Four more stood directly behind him and he had smirked, because even in his wounded state, he could tell they were terrified of what he might be able to do.

 _Rightly so_.

He had looked up into the German’s cold eyes, and they exchanged some unnecessary banter before the Nazi had raised a gun and pointed it directly between his ice-blue eyes.

In this moment, he thought he had failed. After two thousand years, _he had failed_. Was this not his destiny? Was he not supposed to defeat _The Master_?? What had he missed? He had failed _them_ ; he had failed _Ancharia_ and he had failed **_her_**. He considered closing his eyes, but instead locked gazes with the _Lap Dog_ and simply smiled.

“ ** _Finish it_**.”

_At least he would be free and he had grown so very tired over the years._

Then there had been **_that_** _light_. It was as if someone had flipped a switch and turned on the sun itself. The room flooded with an intense burst of UV that baked all the strigoi within its immediate shine _instantly_. All the parasites that had been surrounding him went up in smoke, save only for _Eichhorst_.

He remembered hearing the German let out the most satisfying whimper before he quickly clawed his jacket over his face and used his impressive speed to bolt for the exit. Unfortunate. If he had just been four inches closer, he would have been in its direct path and would not have been able to run.

 _Damnation_.

Without the support of his two guards, he had fallen forward onto all fours. The silver was burning his insides with any and _all_ movement. Hell, it was burning his insides with no movement either and he could smell his own fleshing cooking within. He rocked back and sat on his heels to look up at the figure that moved apprehensively towards him.

It seemed large at first, however he immediately noted that its stature was actually quite short. As he burned from within, it was increasingly hard for him to gauge anything properly from his perspective. He realized the figure itself wasn’t large but rather the clothing it was wearing was. The way that it hung from their frame suggested that it was obviously not meant for the size of the human that was inhabiting it. As it approached, he saw a face hidden under the hood, but he was unable to make out any details. The pain blurred things further and he cringed as he gripped one of the holes in his side. _Oh gods._ He needed to get the silver out.

_It was killing him._

The figure continued to advance and he saw the glint of a knife in its right hand. Deciding to be offensive, his initial attempt to regain his footing failed and he met the floor face first with extreme intimacy. On his collapse, the figure halted its approach, pulling the hood back as he looked up.

He squinted, trying to focus but the silver fever had already begun and he spat, “ ** _FINISH IT!_** ” It had been both a sneer and a plea at the same time, a combination of anger and desperation. He wanted a quick death, a warrior’s death. To die from the silver fever would be _agonizing_.

It wasn’t until he heard its quiet voice, that he realized it was in fact a woman. Her voice was high in pitch but soft in delivery. It gave an air of too much youth, but as he struggled to see her dirty face further, he realized she was likely older than she sounded, at least slightly.

“What … “ she hesitated, staring down at him before she began again, her voice trembling. “What **_are_** you?”


	5. 1.4 - Catch

When the small group first arrived, she had considered it a burden. In normal circumstances, since society had fallen, the presence of both _the mindless ones_ and the _humans_ had proven to be dangerous. But right now, because _the mindless ones_ were in full force tonight across _her_ factory, she hoped that they would give her a much needed distraction to steal away into the night.

She had scouted other _strongholds_ , in the other factories that surrounded the area and she’d found a few that had promise. They could at least hold her through the night and she would come back for her most important supplies in the morning.

When the humans first arrived, she had watched them carefully from her fourth story perch. They drove into the parking lot and clumsily exited their vehicle. It was a wonder they were still alive in _this world_. They were loud and almost unorganized, save for one. She observed him exit and stand eerily still as he panned left and right, scouting the area as his companions readied themselves for some kind of assault.

They had weapons. _Lots_ of weapons and she was immediately envious. That was good for them and likely bad for her. She would avoid _any contact_ where possible. People had become savages since the end, and she had survived this long by cutting ties with humanity entirely. Though she had to learn that the hard way … As terrible memories crept in, she shoved them from her mind for now. It wasn’t healthy to dwell on the past … look forward.

_Yesterday is dead._

Turning her attention back to the one that didn’t belong, she noted he was dressed in all black and sported a hood similar to her own. She knew why _she_ hid her face, and she wondered why he would need to hide his. _Interesting_. Much too far to make out any details, she still squinted at him carefully and as he scanned the buildings, his gaze stopped in her direction.

> “ _Oh shit!_ ”

Her mind screamed as she pulled back, crouching down and out of sight immediately while her heart began to pound unnecessarily hard.

> “ _Oh shit_ … did he see us?” Her internal dialog started to converse with itself as it had a tendency to do these days.

She had been the only one to talk to for a while now and she became _quite comfortable_ with arguing with herself. Convincing herself it was a sign of sanity to remain conversational, she started to enjoy the company but on some level she knew it was more likely a sign of impending madness.

> _“No, don’t be dumb, he couldn’t have seen you.”_ She assured herself.
> 
> _“Dude, he looked ** _ _DIRECTLY__** at us.”_
> 
> _“He was scanning around, there’s no way. You’ve made sure that you can’t see your perch from there and your eyes are 20/20.”_
> 
> _“Maybe he saw a glimmer of something? Did we do something dumb?”_

Quickly scanning herself up and down for any metal that might have caused a shine, she found nothing. Nope, the knife was still sheathed and everything else that might shine was on the floor to the right of her. Nope, it’s alright. It’s O.K. She’s just going _mad_ … again.

She moved back to her vantage point and inched her way up slowly to look down at the loud group. She froze in her ascension as he was still staring _directly_ in her direction. Had he _HEARD_ her? _No fucking way._ She had learned to be quiet, nearly silent. Her heart pounded further and she realized she needed to relax. _The mindless_ would hear her heart beating and they would smell her blood pumping. She breathed deeply, in and out, forcing herself to calm down as she continued to watch the group.

His gaze shifted away from her direction to an old bearded man that was approaching and he pulled his hood back finally revealing his face and head. Her eyes widened and her previous curious thought about the need for the hood was now answered. He was one of _them_.

From her perspective, she was unable to make out specific details, but she had already realized that first thought wasn’t entirely true. She would need a much closer look, but he was not entirely one of _them_.

“Professor, we need to move inside.” She heard him speak as he gave a quick gesture to the surrounding buildings. “We are too exposed here and _I do not think we are alone._ ”

He spoke but he didn’t have _The One’_ s voice. When the red had taken over _the mindless’_ eyes, they always spoke with the same voice, well, save for the fucking _Shiny Man_. This man’s accent was distinctly different that _The One_ ’s, but she was too far to see if his eyes _danced with the red_. _Fuck_. If that was true, what was he doing with _humans_?

She watched in silence as they approached the entrance to Building Two and she smiled as she expected what happened next to answer any possible concerns that were lingering. Each building entrance sported two double flood light motion triggered bulbs on either side of the door. The monsters could sense UV, she discovered, unless you mixed it with other light. When she first tested out her theory, their sizzling reaction had brought her _MUCH_ delight. She had replaced only one of the flood lights with the strongest of the mercury vapor bulb lights. Each fixture at each entrance now housed three standard incandescents and one mother fucking “ **POWER OF THE SUN** ” bulb. She liked the marketing slogan of _that_ bulb very much. Well done, **Repti-Supplies** , the name of the company that formerly owned _her_ factory.

This slogan had caused her much delightment … her mind stuttered.

> “Hmm, _delightment_? I don’t think that’s a real word.”

She frowned but quickly decided that she liked it anyways, and she would try to use it more often. It there was no society, then there were no REAL words anymore. Who would complain now? This was the end of the world, yo! Creativity needs to live on. Right? She waited for herself to comply, but her observation quickly shifted back to the ground below.

A mountain of a man was in the lead and as he approached the door, the lights clicked on and flooded over the entire area. The tall scrape of a woman gave out a tiny high pitched squeak of fright at the sudden light and _the pale man_ flashed her a look of pure disapproval.

“Sorry, sorry.” she offered up. She hadn’t said much, but it was enough to pick up some kind of accent, though too little to pinpoint what it was. _The pale man_ moved past both her and the mountain man smoothly, stepping into the light to push the door open.

> “Waaat?” She blinked.

Nothing had happened?! NOTHING HAD HAPPENED. The entire group had now entered the building, closing the door behind them and nothing _fucking_ happened to that pale son of a bitch.

> “What the actual fuck?”

She sat, transfixed on the door for far too long as they would quickly moved through Building Two, as it was just offices and reception. She had already cleaned it out of anything that they might want. She had to be somewhat patient for now.

She was currently in Building Three and her _stronghold_ was in Building One. It had the least number of entrances and it was the easiest to protect while also easiest to booby trap. Though none of her booby traps, all of them being UV based, would not affect the humans, or apparently this _pale man_ either.

She found that the humans usually didn’t offer up much of a necessity for any traps in general. She was able to hide from them easily, having learned to be remarkably quiet.

She didn’t know _why_ they would be here, but she assumed they would be making their way through all the buildings eventually. Concern crept into her mind as she wondered if someone finally came to their senses about what was produced here. If so and they had come for the bulbs, they would be sadly disappointed as she chuckled to herself. She had already confiscated them all and hidden them accordingly. _Suckers_.

She would wait for them to finish in Building Two and make her way to hide there after they exited. There were a couple of places in which she knew she could wait them out. She briefly considered heading back to the _stronghold_ but quickly dismissed the hazardous idea. If they found it, even if she was barricaded in, they could eventually break in.

Nope, she would not risk it. There were too many of them and they were too well armed for her to possibly defeat. She had counted seven total: six men and one woman. Well, six humans and one _other._ Nope, terrible odds. She would play this safe and as long as they didn’t think they had a reason to return, they would just leave disappointed and empty handed.

Each building was connected via a second story walkway to the adjacent building, save for Building One and Building Four, due to the road into the mini-complex. Building One was connected to Building Two, Building Two was connected to Building Three and so on. The walkways had windows and she would see them leaving the building from her current position, regardless of how they chose to exit.

_Good solid plan … Yup. She liked it._

That is, until the _mindless ones_ arrived.


	6. 1.5 - Catch

It was nearly sunset and the sky became brilliant with vivid colors. Normally, she would stop and enjoy this time of the day, but she was in a hurry and instead increased her pace to get back to the safe location before dusk. She had left the generator running and the hallway lights on just in case she wasn’t able to make it back before the sun parted the sky and its protecting presence crept out of sight.

It had been a day and half and he still hadn’t woken yet. He said to remove the silver and she had attempted to do so while he was still conscious. She remembered his last words before the _ordeal_ happened.

“I will require blood … “ He had warned through a clenched jaw as she helped him ease himself down onto the bed, grabbing his side and closing his eyes as he cringed through the pain. It was mere seconds when something primordial awoke within him and his eyes had opened with a crazed look and his body had lunged at her. And damn, _he was strong_ , even in this broken state. She shuddered to think what his full fortitude might be and she hoped she wouldn’t eventually regret finding out.

Until _the weapon_ had erupted from his mouth, she had thought him _almost_ human and honestly, quite striking in some strange way. Ugh, _weapon_ was such a strange term for the thing that erupted from _the mindless_ , but she had no other word to describe it. She had been attacked by _them_ and she had seen it used on others to drain them. It killed for them, so _weapon_ seemed like a good all-purpose term until someone would offer up a better one. Her internal dialogue was silent on this request.

Well, whatever it was, it was _fucking fast_ , but he was clumsy and wounded. She had moved swiftly to grab the metal crossbar, swinging it up and around smoothly like a bat, just as she had been trained to do. The metal connected precisely with his temple and the force of the blow sent him crumpling onto the floor.

” _Holy fuck._ “ She was surprised that she had actually said that out loud. Other than asking him what he was, she wasn’t sure when the last time she had actually spoken had been. _Months?_

She had actually been practicing with the bar, _just in case_. It was quite a bit heavier than a bo staff, with which she was far more familiar, but the same motions seemed to apply. She had used it as a reason for exercise as well.

> ” _Remember the first rule!_ “ She would chime to herself internally. “ **CARDIO**.” That was a good movie. Ah … she really _missed_ movies.

Obviously the training had made her a great deal stronger, and the force with which it connected to his head proved that. Mr. Parker, her childhood sensei, would have been proud of her. She tried to push this thought out of her mind as she knelt beside the unconscious creature on the floor, but the thought resiliently persisted.

> "No, Mr. Parker is _dead_ , so he’s not proud of anything anymore.”

In fact, she pondered, everyone that she knew as likely gone. Gone or _mindless_. But at least Mr. Parker hadn’t been _mindless_ , he died of cancer. He had been a good teacher, the _best_ teacher in fact. She was never able to find another that she liked after his passing though she tried, but no one else could match her high standards.

She had eventually abandoned training all together and when the outbreak happened, she regretted that. He would _not_ have been proud of _that_. Nevertheless, she was certain that what she learned had managed to help her stay alive. Yes, he was gone, but _never forgotten,_ and she was alive because of him and what he had taught her.

His body heaved with a heavy breath and she grinned. Good, he was _still_ breathing. She was relieved that she hadn’t killed him and as she pulled his limp frame over and onto his back and she peered at him closely now. This was the first time she was able to take in his full visage.

 _Fascinating_. He wasn’t _entirely_ one of _the mindless_ , she verified now but he definitely shared features with them, however something about him was distinctly more human— … her internal dialog sharply activated and interrupted her:

> “Well, what do _you_ do now?”
> 
> “What do _I_ do now??”
> 
> “He just tried to kill us. I would think that the best course of action is to let him bleed out or speed up the process and put him out of his _obvious_ misery.”
> 
> “Wait, what? I don’t know. That doesn’t feel righ-”
> 
> “He just tried to _KILL YOU_. _TO KILL_ **_US_**. This is how we survive, _little lady._ ”

She hated it when she mansplained things to herself.

> “ ** _STOP_**. We _saved_ him. We _CHOSE_ to save him. We didn’t wait until the Shiny Man was over the line and in our _FUCKING TRAP_. We chose _his_ life over …”
> 
> “Over _our_ revenge … it was the wrong choice.”
> 
> “Maybe so.”
> 
> “O.K. What are we gonna do now?”

She surveyed the room and her available tools. The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon and she needed to remove the silver, and as he had stated, he would need _*gulp*_ **blood**? She could help with the former, but she wasn’t sure about the latter yet.

First thing’s first, she would need to restrain him if she was going to try and help him again. Next, she would need that pair of forceps she saw on the factory floor in Building Four and she needed to hurry.

_He was dying._

 


	7. 1.6 - Catch

The no-kill traps were in the custodian’s closet of Building One. She found them very early on and took note. Eventually, she speculated she would run out of the vending machine food that she hoarded. She cringed at the thought of eventually having to trap and cook her own food. The trapping and cooking weren’t exactly the thing that had made her cringe, but rather the _killing_ part.

Unfortunately, the traps hadn’t been used in a while as they apparently had been exchanged for the use of the three boxes of warfarin that shared the shelf with the rusted contraptions. They weren’t overly complicated and it didn’t take her long to figure out how they worked, though they were old, large, _and_ clunky.

At first, she considered just setting the traps up around _her_ factory, but she never saw a rat, and concluded that since the poison had likely already been used. In hindsight, she guessed that was something she was glad about, but nevertheless that meant she would need to set the traps elsewhere as she was unsure if the _Pale Man_ would fair very well with anticoagulants running through him. She wondered, in passing, what affect warfarin might have on the _mindless_ , but she shelved that thought for now. It would be best to address that hypothesis _later_ , if at all. _Tomorrow_ maybe. Hmmm. What traps could she create with _warfarin_?

This task tugged on her heartstrings. In all honestly, she _loved_ animals, including mice and rats, more than she actually liked humans themselves. She even had pet rats growing up and the thought of killing something innocent sickened her, though not as much as it once did. Surviving was not something for the weak of heart; that was something she had come to terms with several times over. In this post-apocalyptic world, even her hands were not entirely clean of _blood_.

One of the traps was rusted beyond any hope of being usable, but the other four proved worthy of at least attempt. She took her last candy bar that was rummaged out of the broken vending machine in Building Two and baited each trap. It was a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and she was immediately disappointed because she had saved it until the end. They were her favorite. She sneaked a tiny bite of the last piece, sighing as she wondered if that would be her last taste of this _glorious_ creation.

> “Our revenge … the _last_ Peanut Butter cup. This _fucker_ better be worth it.”

She gave up all candy and junk food years before _the epidemic_ happened in an attempt to comply with current beauty standards and lose weight to fit into some preconceived notion of what she _needed_ to look like. All of that seemed silly now and on some level, she appreciated the freedom that the plague had afforded her. She gave up years of peanut butter for what exactly? _Exactly_. For _nothing_. She digressed and pushed the regret from her mind and returned to the task at hand.

There were several factories surrounding Repti-Supplies but she was weary to set any traps there. She would have to clear the buildings. There wasn’t any time for that. She dismissed those possibilities completely when she realized they might have used poison as well. Deciding to venture farther out into the vacant lots that she saw to the south, she would risk the exposure. It was about a two mile walk, and she would be out in the open, but she decided it was most likely to prove fruitful.

Four traps, four different lots. _Done_. She had done this the day before and the plan had been to come back earlier the next day, but she kept forgetting that she also required sleep. Her schedule had completely been offset due to the happenings of the other night, and she had overslept considerably. It also didn’t help that the _stronghold_ had no windows nor natural lighting, just a fluorescent bulb that she had rigged up to a battery.

She often thought perhaps she should use one of the UV bulbs, but her freckled skin would definitely revolt against that idea. At least that was something her and the _mindless_ had in common. They were both allergic to the _fucking_ sun.

Hurrying now, she found the first trap empty. _Shit_. Concern had grown in her mind at this point as the worst case scenario sprung to her mind.

Perhaps the _mindless_ had killed _all_ life? If so, this entire effort might just be pointless. Her worry expanded further when she couldn’t find the second trap immediately. Scouring the lot, she eventually discovered it, ripped apart and covered in blood.

_Fuck._

She considered turning back entirely at this point. She wasted too much time searching for the second trap and the sun hung scarily low on the horizon. Motivated by the fact that something obviously had been alive in the trap, she continued. Besides, if she turned back now, what would she feed him _if_ he woke up? Her mind hung on the “ _if_ ”. He hadn’t moved since she downed him.

> “He might not even wake up, and you are putting us in danger for _what_ exactly?”
> 
> “No. I’ll check the third trap at least. If he does wake up, he’s _not_ eating _me_.”

She continued on and was relieved to find the third trap immediately, intact but _empty_.

Her mind returned to the previous conversation that it had been having.

> “Come on … why are you doing this? It’s getting late.”

She actually didn’t know _why_ exactly, but she was driven to continue.

> “Well … the second trap obviously caught _something_ , so there’s still _something_ to catch. Fourth time’s a charm?”

 

* * *

 

“ _Crap_.”

She watched the sun depart over the cusp of the horizon and she was still a good ten minutes from the safety of _her_ factory.

“ **Cardio** ” She tried to motivate herself to move faster, but she couldn’t. She was exhausted and out of breath entirely. She was really never good at cardio and _fucking A_ , having short legs hasn’t helped matters at all. Seriously … why couldn’t she have been taller?

Fumbling the fourth trap in her hands as she ran and she heard the small creature sliding around inside of it. She had to leave the other two traps, still baited, in the lot that she had picked up the successful fourth. Besides, she might get lucky again? She was sure one rat wouldn’t be enough to feed a grown … _ummm … strigoi?_ Meh, if not she would just get them later. Right now, they would have just slowed her down.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated to poor creature within, but she knew if she was the rat, she wouldn’t give a _shit_ about apologies at this point in time.

When she made it into the safety of the building, she stopped to breath for a moment, panting dramatically as she leaned against the wall to catch her breath.

> _“Calm your breath. Calm your heart They might hear us.”_

The _mindless_ would be back tonight. This was undeniable truth. They had been back _every_ night since she slipped up. She had turned off all the light traps and barricaded herself fairly well, remaining completely silent while he slept, hoping quietly they would give up and move on if they thought she had as well, but they hadn’t. _Sneaky bastards_. She knew by blatantly saving him as she did, she had outed her location to the _Shiny Man_. Now it was just a matter of time before _they_ … before _it_ would find her again.

She knew it was simply too risky to stay another night, but she had no choice. As much as she appreciated this place, it was sadly time to move on. The _Pale Man_ had become an inconvenience to her now, one that might cost her her freedom and likely her life. But she wasn’t about to just leave him there and he needed to be awake before they could move.

Rounding the corner, she came down the basement stairs as quickly as she could manage. Around the bend and into the locker rooms, then through the showers and beyond. Every time she passed this area, she mused how nice it would have been if the water was still running. She hadn’t showered in weeks and then she stopped suddenly as the inaccuracy of that thought actually sunk in.

 _Weeks?_ She smelled herself and winced. _Months._ In the beginning, she had attempted to keep a count of the days, but she quickly gave that up. It became almost torturous to know, so she let that part of her humanity go. The only measurement of time that mattered now was the idea of _tomorrow_. _Yesterday was dead._

As she approached her expertly hidden doorway, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure what the room had been used for in the past, but it had a bed in it, and it was fairly secure. She liked to imagine it was used as a napping room for the night security guard at some point, but was abandoned when he was likely fired after the advent of modern cameras and security technology. That was one of the many stories she would amuse herself with at least. The end of the world definitely hadn’t robbed her of her imagination and she grinned. _Hell no._

The door was completely invisible to anyone simply walking by. When she had first come up with the idea, she thought herself absolutely brilliant. With a couple of tubes of Liquid Nails, she had glued boxes onto the door itself. It opened outward, so the boxes were laid out in such a way that it overlapped the frame entirely.

She’d always wanted a hidden room in her house, something with a hidden door behind a bookcase or something, and she always got a feeling of excitement when she opened this door. Reaching into the box on the right, she’d cut a hole out to allow her to reach the handle behind it. Then she would push the box shut again.

Almost _home_.

Once through the door, she grinned again. Good, the lights were _still_ running. She had strung up a good number of ceramic-based dome lights across the entire run of the short hallway and the generator that powered them was softly purring on the far end of the corridor. She pulled the door shut behind her and flicked the generator off as she passed. It was best to save the gas and _they_ would be back, so she needed to be in _stealth_ mode. She mused to herself, “ _because they mostly come out at night … mostly_ ,” and then she stopped in her tracks, completely horrified at her own words.

> “Oh my god, I’ve become _Newt_.”
> 
> “It’s alright … Newt was on the ONLY one that had lived, remember?”
> 
> She scoffed at that thought, “She still died in the _third_ movie.”

She gripped the doorknob, taking a deep breath and holding it as she opened it slowly. Shock encompassed her first, but it ultimately faded to relief as she found his steely white eyes staring back at her.

He was awake.

 ** _Finally_**.

Awake and _angry_.

 


	8. 2.1 - Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

He watched her face carefully as she entered the poorly lit room. He observed and stored every detail of her movement to memory. She had taken down six strigoi, even for a normal sized human, that was impressive. She had sent the _Lap Dog_ running and somehow fought _him_ off. Even in his injured state, that was a feat as well. She might make a valuable ally.

But, whether she was an ally or _foe_ remained to be seen. In any case, Quintus was far from happy. There was only one thing that he detested more than being shot at, and that was being _chained_. At this moment, looking into her big eyes, in his mind, she was no longer his savior, she was his _captor_.

He saw the surprise wash over her face as she found him staring back at her. Had she thought he was dead? Surely not. He breaths; his heart beats. And as a look of relief washed over her face, his anger wavered, but only for an instant. Relief for what? Of concern she had for him? Surely not. Why had she helped him? To what end? His skepticism burned brightly.

He was watching and archiving every movement and expression, _very, very_ carefully. Over the years, he had learned to read humans easily, and using these queues, he had become an expert at manipulation. But, before the manipulation could start, he would need to be able to _speak_.

If she was an _ally_ , then he would need to work a more diplomatic approach to gain his release. He needed to assume that he was restrained due to his actions alone, and not some other agenda. It was easy to jump to conclusions right now, he was not of his right mind and he was so very fatigued. His fate was no longer in his own hands at this point in time.

She had halted at the door frame, staring back at him.

 

* * *

  


She wasn’t sure how long she had actually stood there. She probably looked like she was staring blankly at him. Funny, she thought, “blankly”. But she knew it was the complete opposite. So many thoughts and doubts started to skip across her mind at numbing speeds. In an attempt to slow her thoughts down, the dialog started up again.
    
    
         “Great. He’s awake now. So … now what?”
    
    
         “Uhhh … now we give him _blood_?”
    
    
         “Alright, Ms. Genius. How exactly do we do that?”

Her eyes darted down to the metal box that she carried, and his eyes followed hers. Did he know what was in the box already? Could he already tell? She set the cage down on the ground before a distant noise elsewhere in the building snapped her back into the task at hand. It was now night. Right. _Stealth_ mode.

She pushed the door shut hurriedly. She picked up the crossbar to slide it into the metal holdings on either side of the door but then she hesitated. It was heavy in her hands and she was, frankly, still scared of him. She’d had no idea if the duct tape would really hold him. It _seemed_ to be working though. Heh.

It was useful stuff, she’d discovered, and luckily she had found a crate of it in the shipping building. It had brought her great joy when she discovered it, “oh my god, a crate of duct tape at the end of the world! This stuff will be **GOLD**!.” She had regaled herself with daydreams of trading for stuff she really wanted with it, but you would need people to trade with, and there were no people anymore.

She gripped the crossbar tightly and considered not sliding it into its snug security position at all. What was more useful now? Protecting the door? Or protecting _her_?

No, she dismissed this entirely now. “ _This is no longer a debate_ ”, she shut herself down before the argument could even ignite in her head again. She had already made her decision on this when she turned the lights on early and had decided to save his life.

Once the crossbar was snugly in place, she moved back to the desk, removed her hood and pulled off her very large coat, revealing her much smaller frame.

 

* * *

 

She was not what he had expected at all, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he had really expected. But whatever that was, it just wasn’t what he saw. He remembered that she was short, but she was shorter than he’d thought, likely an inch or two above five feet. It was still difficult to tell from his current perspective. He continued his scan.

Her face was dirty and he could tell she hadn’t bathed in quite some time. This didn’t bother him as much as it would have bothered modern humans, especially if they had his senses. He’d lived with their most filthy habits for far longer than the access to fresh water became prevalent. He decided, all things considered, she didn’t smell _that_ bad, but the smell was definitely stronger without the massive coat.

Her face was square in shape. Her teeth were impressively straight, although just imperfect enough to tell they were natural. Her weight was likely on the rounder side of the currently accepted modern “ _healthy_ ”. Curves, yes. Her hair, unsure, it was difficult to gauge its color in this light, but it was parted to the left and pulled back away from her face in a low tie at the back of her head. Her eyebrows were thicker than most wore them now and her lips were thin and pale. He wasn’t sure what her race was yet, but likely European of some kind. That wasn’t entirely accurate though; it was a mixture of some kind. From the single sentence that he remembered her saying, he had discerned an American accent. Expected, they were in _America_ after all.

Overall, he decided quickly that she was pleasant and in another century, she would have been considered desirable. But not in this era, though. This _era_ had become so strange in their current assessment of beauty. He wasn’t sure where to place her age yet; she was dirty and it was masking the details that he would need to make an accurate assumption. The range was great, older than 20, less than 40.

He could tell that his steady gaze shifting over her caused her enough discomfort to turn her back to him as she pulled the tight gloves off of her hands and sat them on the messy table. Her nails were short and dirty. She stared at the wall in silence.

Internal conflict … yes, he had been there. When the only person that you can communicate with is yourself for long enough, you become completely internalized. Until he had met _Ancharia_ , this was his nature state of being.

He immediately felt a great swell of _pity_ for her, but he knew that she obviously would have no use for this, and he decided to convert the emotion to a feeling of understanding instead.

Her mannerisms, her expressions, her being. She had been alone for a while now, he could read that much. He could see that her mind was racing with thoughts and yet she had said nothing yet. _Not a single word_. He could do nothing but simply wait.

 

* * *

 
    
    
         “You didn’t really think out the next step, did you?”

She stared at the wall and her self beratement continued.
    
    
         “If you take off the tape, he _will_ attack you again.”
    
    
         “I’ll be careful.”
    
    
         “How exactly? You’ve seen their weapons stretch farther than 6′ before. That’s already half the size of this damn room. You take off the tape and give him access to your throat, he will kill you.”
    
    
         “I know.”
    
    
         “If you take off that tape, he’s going to _murder_ you.”

Her heart beat began a slow increase in its rate of velocity, and she wondered if he could hear it. Of course he could. Her anxiety … her fear.

 _Fuck_.
    
    
         “I told you this was a bad idea.”

Her eyes fluttered down to his _other_ weapons that rested on the chair. She had collected him from where he’d collapsed before the _mindless_ collected him for execution. She could threaten to shoot him if he attacked her, but the guns were empty. The _mindless_ had, in the end, emptied his own guns into his body. It had been brutal. She could attempt a bluff, but he likely remembered. He was right there when all the bullets were expended, after all.

She had watched most of the fight from the scaffold above and it had been a _glorious_ fight. He ripped through them with ease, interchanging use of the guns with his sword. Near the end, she was certain he was going to win. She had never seen anything like it before. He moved effortlessly with such agility that she had lost track of him several times.

But then the shot rang out, and as the first bullet penetrated his porcelain skin and he had staggered back. A _sniper_. When the second bullet hit, she realized there was no where he could go quickly. He took refuge behind a large machine, but the bullets had affected him already. He was a sitting duck.
    
    
     _"Balls_ … "

And she had known _exactly_ where the sniper was too. The perfect location to sit perched and view everything. She had, after all, sat there and watched him and his team arrive just an hour earlier.

She moved quickly and decisively. _Fuck that_. That was her perch. And she smiled as she made her way from the 3rd floor back to the 4th. _Her_ perch … she always booby trapped _her_ places.
    
    
         “What if the sniper isn’t a _mindless_ one?” she questioned her motives.
    
    
         “If he’s not, then I’m already fucked anyways.”

And she had approached from behind. She had no intention of actually reaching him, but just to get to the wire hanging down from the dome light above and touch it to the battery on the floor. The motion sensor should trigger immediately. She had disengaged it earlier when she was watching from here.

By the time the camouflaged figure was smoking on the ground, she heard the other shots ring out and when she had made her way back to the open factory floor, they were already dragging him away.

 _Fuck_.


	9. 2.2 - Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

Her plan was sound and she liked it. But, she often liked her own plans. She really wasn’t sure she missed the incessant criticisms of her peers at all anymore. Usually, people thought they were being helpful, but most criticism, as she found it, was just rooted in them not really understanding what she was saying or unwilling to see outside of their own contrived thought box. She’d often pondered if this was why she didn’t really have any friends anymore. This caused her to frown.

She stood staring at the wall for longer than she should have, and her increased anxiety had made him nervous, she assumed. Nervous enough for him to rattle his frame to get her attention.
    
    
         “This is a crazy plan. _Nope. Nope. Nope_.”
    
    
         “He’s **NOT** a hornet’s nest.”

She smiled as the reference to one of her favorite web comics snuck across her conscience. She missed _The Oatmeal_ greatly.  She stopped smiling when she realized that he was, indeed, a _hornet's nest_. 

He watched, carefully, as she knelt at the foot of the bed and retrieved the stashed weapon from underneath. She’d hid all of her best stuff down there too, and this was by far the greatest treasure yet.

The sniper rifle was **HEAVY** and she had to drag it completely out before attempting to pick it up correctly. His eyes widened and his gaze locked on hers. She pushed a pile of trash from the table to the floor and pulled it out from the wall so there was enough room for her to stand between it and the wall. She set the rifle on the table and started to fiddle with it. She knew there were only three bullets left. Now, to figure out how to work it. She admitted to herself that she probably should have done that _before_ he woke up …

 

* * *

 

She had smiled for some reason as she stared at the wall. It wasn’t a sinister smile, but more as if she had discovered some hidden inside joke. Then, he watched her pull a large gun out from under his bed.

His first thought jumped to the conclusion that she had been _the sniper. Oh damnation_ ... But, his moment of despair faded as he watched her fumble with it at the table. She was trying to figure out how to use it. Pushing and tugging gently on the various parts of it. He could offer up some advice, as he’d actually been trained on the same weapon already, but he didn’t think she would be up for removing his tape just yet, and his advice would most definitely seem tainted, especially if she was going to try and use it on him.

A revelation washed over his mind and he realized, if she was not the sniper, then the only way she would have the rifle was if she had taken it from the sniper himself. The solider had only been able to get off two silver rounds into Quintus before he had taken cover. When he made his unsuccessful attempt to run, there had not been any more shots as he had expected. It was an assumption, and if he was right, he now realized that she had helped him more than once.

What exactly was she doing now, though? But, then she had it. Unlocked, loaded and ready to go. That was fast. _Clever girl_. He assumed that’s why she was still alive, so far away from civilization and all alone.

She moved the gun so that its barrel pointed towards him, while still resting on the table. She nodded to herself. He could see that she was pleased with herself.

Next, she retrieved the box with the animal. She slide the lid back to peak inside and he saw surprise grace her dirty square face. She looked back at him and he witnessed another internal struggle occur before she removed the lid entirely and set the metal cage on the ground beside the bed. He looked over into the box to see a decently sized rabbit. It was impressive that the rabbit had gotten inside the box. The opening was obviously designed for a large rodent, but _starvation causes animals to react unpredictably_. Overall he was relieved. He despised eating rodents intensely, and a rabbit would provide more sustenance than a rat.

Then, she picked up his dagger from the chair and something shiny from the table. He couldn’t make out exactly what it was yet, his fatigue still made it difficult to focus in this dim light.

Now she was closer than she had been before, and he could make out details that had escaped his gaze before. He first noted that her eyes were green and her nose was freckled. He’d thought she was dirty from far away, but now it was obvious she was just very spotted, and not _just_ on her nose, but the freckles spanned her entire face, neck and hands as well. Something was off about the coloring of her eyes, but he dismissed it for now. She was older than he had first thought possible, and he could see small lines had started to form where her expressions commonly leaked through. He shortened his range on either side now: older than 25, less than 35, maybe?

She knelt at the bedside and he could now smell her blood fiercely. Her heart beat rapidly and it caused his breathing to quicken and then she heard a rattle from his throat that she had not heard before. He was starving and he knew she was right to be cautious. He’d already lost control once. This embarrassed him greatly; it had been over a millennia since he learned to control himself entirely around his hunger. But, he had never been wounded this severely before and assured himself it would _never_ happen again.

She spoke and her voice was falsely confident yet still soft. He could hear the tremble that she struggled to hide. Human ears would not have heard her unease.

“I’m going to cut your arm free.”

He struggled to focus on her words instead of the smell of her blood and he nodded once.

“I’ve found you something to … _eat_.” She hesitated at that and continued, “ I’m going to cut your arm free and then when I’m behind the desk, you will remove the rest of your tape yourself. Understand?”

 _Clever_. The corner of the room was indeed too far for him to reach with his stinger. She had planned to sit, poised with the gun, just out of his reach. He could cut himself entirely free but he would fail any attempt to reach her. The room was small and any fatigued movement that he could make towards her wasn’t going to be faster than her trigger finger.

She was making steps to release him. This was a good sign. But, the animal wasn’t enough to satiate him for long or make him strong _enough_. He would need to feed on a _human_.

He nodded again and then he finally saw the shiny object clearly for an exacto knife. She brought the dagger up towards his throat and held it steady as she brought the exacto blade firmly and cleanly across the tape over the metal frame. She gouged it enough to leave a small mark in the metal itself and make a clean cut all along and completely through the overlapping tape. Then she quickly dropped the knife on his chest and darted back behind her vantage point, lifting the barrel directly at him.

With one sharp pull towards his body, his arm was freed.

**_Ah … thank the gods!_ **


	10. 2.3 - Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

She really hadn’t expected it to be a rabbit. _Shit_. And it was a cute rabbit, too.
    
    
         “Come on … _all_ rabbits are cute”, she chortled to herself.

How the hell did it get into the trap?? She immediately felt bad about using the Payday as bait. She suddenly considered abandoning the entire thing. She could just collect her things and release the rabbit back into the field in the morning, but then she looked back at his eyes, staring so unsettlingly patiently back at her, and she concluded that she was, indeed, going to rabbit hell now when she died.

After he freed his first arm, he grabbed the knife and repeated the same cut to free the remaining one. Then, sitting up on the bed, he dropped the blade between his legs, reached up to his mouth and began feeling around for the start of the tape.

She now felt a bit embarrassed. She’d wrapped A LOT of tape around his head and he looked quite ridiculous. After the attack, there was no way that she wanted that thing to come at her again. But, as he felt around and realized the amount of tape that restrained him, he shot her an exasperated expression and she felt herself blush. She gave a small shrug and shot him a tiny smile. She hoped it conveyed the ‘meh … sorry’ that she was going for.

So, he began the laborious task of unwinding it. Halfway through, he considered just using the knife, but he knew he would cut himself: the tape was wound too tightly and his hands were still too shaky.

As the last layer pulled away from his skin and his mouth was free, he breathed in deeply and sighed. He stretched his jaw open and closed in a mock yawn and closed his eyes tightly before matching her unflinching gaze again. Then, he cut his legs free and swung himself so that his bare feet were now planted firmly on the ground and he was sitting upright on the bed.

He was completely unrestrained now. She gulped.

The animal was next. She wanted to close her eyes, but that would have been dangerous. She needed to be ready, just in case. The whimper it gave caused her to wince slightly, but he was fast and it was already over. He returned the creature to its metal tomb and slid it out of his way.

He breathed in deeply again and he stretched his neck to one side before finally speaking.

“My name is _Quinlan_.”

She considered his words for a moment. That wasn’t entirely right, but she wasn’t sure if he was lying on purpose or not. It was similar to what he had said during his fever. _Similar enough?_
    
    
         "Nah, lets push it."

“I thought your name was Quintus?” she countered. She preferred the ' _Pale Man_ ’ as names were so pre-apocalypse, and she had resorted to using titles mostly now.

He blinked at her as confusion replaced his calm demeanor. His mouth opened and remained slightly agape. This was an expression she hadn’t seen him make yet and was not an expression she would likely see from him again. But, _right now_ , this made her smile. He didn’t remember and at that moment, she had made him incredibly uneasy. But, this definitely wouldn’t help ease the tension, so she offered up an explanation.

“You were speaking before I taped you up.”

He stared down at the ground now, “I … “ He stopped and she saw him give great consideration to what he would say next. This had caught him off guard and as she observed, he was very _calculating_ in everything that he did and said.

“What _else_ did I say?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know that language. You only said one thing in English: _My name is Quintus_.” She had actually suspected that it was many different languages, but at this point, that detail mattered not.

He looked at her again and nodded, “Yes. My name used to be Quintus, but now … now I am _Quinlan_.”

Fair enough, it was a bit of an odd thing to say, but she accepted it. Now he stared at her, waiting. _Uh oh_ … had she missed something? He was obviously expecting for some kind of response from her now. Sometimes when she lost herself in thought she would miss things in real life often, but she was sure he hadn’t said anything more.

He cocked his head slightly to the right and offered up the obvious question: “And you?”

 _Shit. Duh._ And now she completely hesitated. His previous words were now a rhythmic lyric, repeating in her mind … ‘ _used to be_ ’ … _exactly_. It had been odd, but accurate and she immediately knew that she could relate to it. Who exactly _was_ she now? I mean, she knew her given name, she knew who she _used to be_ , but, with 100% certainty of her being, she knew that she was no longer _that_ person. _That_ person had died at _the end_.

She was always a stronger person before, but that strength had waived when her life had come unhinged before the end. She had been a broken shell after her dreams had collapsed and her marriage had fallen apart. But, now she was stronger than she had ever been and she was completely changed in a way. _The end_ had rattled something lose within her, something that had been lost for a long time.

She was no longer … she stopped in her thoughts before she uttered _that_ name … No. She wasn’t _her_ anymore. She was someone else, she repeated. Before she could stop herself, she said with utter confidence, “ _Dawn_.”

This surprised her. The name had come out of no where, but it seemed fitting, especially given the state of things. The _dawn_ had represented the idea of tomorrow to her, the only state of time that now mattered. And the _dawn_ was the enemy of the _mindless_. It was _hope_ , to her, or maybe just a promise of hope.

“Thank you, _Dawn_.” He gave inflection to the name; he seemed to approve of it.

“For what?” She blinked behind the barrel of the massive fire arm pointed squarely at his head.

“For aiding me.”


	11. 3.1 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

She could tell that his gratitude was uniquely genuine and it was surprising to some extent. She gave him a small nod of acceptance, but she offered no words in return. _Stealth_ mode. She could also tell that he was no longer angry.

Some color had returned to his skin, no doubt from the fresh blood that coursed through him. Well, as much color as could be expected. The swirled area around his neck was no longer the same color as the rest of his skin, but now had a slightly pinkish color to it. She had marveled at his swirls in great detail after clumsily trying her trade at being a surgeon. She was glad she hadn’t gone down a career path of the medical profession now.

She was also glad she’d covered up the holes with gauze and tape; she’d made a bit of a mess out of him. She swore to herself that she had gotten better after the 3rd bullet retrieval, but she knew it wasn’t true.

The swirls, they reminded her of what she used to doodle when she was bored in class, or in waiting rooms, or at home … well, just bored in general then. They were also one of the differences between him and the other _mindless_ ones, but it was a commonality that he shared with _the one_ , and that had brought her much unease. She had considered not continuing at the presence of that first revelation. “The enemy of my enemy, I suppose,” and she had successfully coaxed herself to continue.

In hindsight, she was glad she had. Staring at the _Pale Man_ now, oops, at _Quintus_ … erm, **_QUINLAN_** ; he was nothing like _the one_ at all, right? Right?? Her other self had gone painfully quiet all of the sudden.

He sat, fully vertical in his posture. He almost looked like a statue, with his marblesque skin and stillness. The uncomfortable silence began and continued as his gaze was unflinching with hers. She knew exactly what was happening in his mind, as she was doing the same thing. He was sizing her up.

She knew he was stronger, even now. She knew that he was faster. He was much bigger. The only advantages that she now possessed was the gun, pointed squarely at his head, and his obvious underestimation of her. Everyone always underestimated her at first.

Her size, while being a great disadvantage in continued combat, was a _blessing_ on first strike. Everyone that she had ever fought, in life or in class, always under estimated her at first strike. She _always_ had one, single shot at a crippling blow. _Always_.

Mr. Parker had trained her a little different than everyone else, even from the beginning, when she was even smaller than she stood now. Martial arts was mostly about repetition, respect, honor, yada yada … but he would always quietly pull her aside and whisper the same mantra: “Alright, _little one_. Let’s try it another way.”

Yes, he had taught her the same technique as the others, but then he would teach her something else, something more sinister, to accompany it. He had used the words “ _dirty fighting_ ” from time to time, but then he would assure her, if she was really going to stand a chance against a greater adversary, she would need to think outside of the box.

“If you are ever in a fight against someone this much bigger than you, _little one_ ” and he would merrily pat himself on his bulging sensei stomach, “then chances are, you are fighting for your life, and not for honor.” The men in the class, they were taught how to fight, using structure and discipline. She had been taught how to _win_ in a fight. In the other styles that she eventually tried out, she came to learn that what he’d taught her was mostly akin to Krav Maga. And because of that, she had liked taking Krav Maga. Too bad the teacher was _shit_. That wasn’t a fair assessment though, because everyone other than Mr. Parker was utter _shit_.

Thinking back to the first time she actually hit him and she didn’t consider the crossbar strike to his head as counting for that _first strike_ , either. That could have just been luck. He had been crazed and he might even not remember it clearly, right? Either way, the bowie knife that was tied loosely at her forearm, under her long sleeved shirt, afforded her a modicum of confidence should things turn _nasty_. A sharp action downward, and it would detach and slide into her grip. She’d practiced it many times. Ah, the truly endless wonders of Duct tape.

“Am I free to leave?” he postured to her and gave a nod to the door.

“Oh, I’m not gonna keep you,” … ugh, immediately she regretted the wording, as if implying that he was a lost pet or something. She attempted to fix it, “I mean … you _aren’t_ a prisoner, but its not safe to leave right now.” She spoke as low as possible, but she had definitely lost the skill to conversate effectively or smoothly. She was sure she was coming across as a bumbling fool.

“How long wa–”

She interrupted quickly with an abrupt answer, “Night before last.”

“What ti–” but his words were cut short again, but this time by something else. A loud noise sounded from above; something crashing heavily down. His attention snapped to the ceiling. She had turned off all the motion sensors, yes, and had instead, set up various noise traps throughout all 4 buildings. She had spent most of the day finishing this up. It would give her some idea of where the mindless ones were as they scoured the buildings looking for their prize that night.

They were in _their_ building now. They needed to _stop_ talking. This was NOT _stealth_ mode. He seemed to understand this, as he stared at the ceiling, cocking his head from left to right, as a beagle might. He obviously could hear them MUCH better than she presently could.

She had a guilty thought about the pet comment again and associating his movements with a beagle, and conjectured how useful having him around might actually be. She missed her pups more than anything in this world. More than _The Oatmeal_ and _movies_.

Stop.

Forward.

 _Tomorrow_. Yesterday is already _dead_.

 

* * *

 

He could hear the scuffling above clearly now. It was outside of her currently available senses, but he could make out at least four separate pairs of feet with ease, and he could hear more outside, many more. Their presence ultimately confused him. Were they here looking for _him_? No, they had been here looking for something else. If they were just looking for him and thought it possible he was still here, they would have just simply burned the building down. The Master was not one for eloquence.

The Master must have been searching for the signal interference as well then? Perhaps? But, _why_? It had been throwing off their location calculation results, or that’s what Dutch had proposed. But could it have been adversely affecting him also? That would be a useful thing if true. He would have to propose the question to the hacker though, as all of this was outside of his skill-set by many centuries.

His group had scoured the area, looking for the signal’s source, but had come up empty handed before the hoard had arrived. Apparently, not scoured good enough, as he didn’t remember seeing either this room or what little of the hallway he glimpsed as she entered.

His eyes flashed back to his weapons and he heard the slightly grip on the rifle tighten. She wasn’t going to let him have his weapons back yet, and the situation was quite a bit different than it had been just moments before. There was now immediate danger.

This could no longer remain a friendly banter; they were amidst a full on strigoi assault, and he had no idea where they were, what their chances of survival were, how fortified her location was or how many bullets she had remaining.

He had been attempting to ask what time it was, but that was obvious now. Night, and only had recently become so, as she had just been out and about. He knew she likely didn’t leave this room at night.

His mind had already raced with the possible options. He needed his weapons in hand and the presence of the minions outside had now given him another option entirely. She had exposed a strategic weakness to Quinlan; he could tell that she was attempting to be as quiet as possible, which meant that she would resist firing the rifle. However, “resist” did not mean she would NOT fire it, but he knew that she would hesitate in the very least. She was aiming at a very small target, his head, and he is _very fast_.

This room was indeed secure, but that was also a disadvantage. One entry, but also just one exit. They would swarm and there would be no possibility for retreat. If she discharged that weapon in his direction, they would be on them in a matter of minutes. She is clever, but she had yet to learn that you always needed an escape route.

However, the thing that he did like about the location was the choke point. If he was at full strength, then he could cut through them in ease, one by one, or more likely, two at a time. He was out of bullets, but that’s why he still carried his sword. If any of them were armed again, it might pose a problem, but he would be expecting that this time.

He was immediately shameful of his next consideration. He needed to be at _full_ _strength_ , if that occurred, which meant that he would need to _really feed_. His humanity would need to take a back seat tonight. Regardless how many bullets the rifle had, there was simply no way that both of them would survive an impending onslaught in his current state. And if both would not survive, then it was surely better that at least one would?

His justification to himself was rocky at best, but _Ancharia_ ’s voice sounded in his head and he knew that his destiny was, and always had been, more important than any single life. It would be quick and it would be as painless as possible, he promised himself.

He looked back into her big eyes and he could see them very clearly now, with the fresh blood coursing through his ancient veins, even from his seat across the cold, dark room, and he found them _beautiful_ , both in shape and color.

The majority of the color was indeed a rich green, but the outside border of the iris had a dark teal color to it. Tiny, almost unnoticeable flecks of amber danced around inside of the green closer to the center. The combination of intense colors immediately made him think of a dragonfly he had seen on _that_ tragic day on his farm so many, many years ago. _That_ day, that _life_ ... He had caged those emotions long ago, and that dragonfly was attempting to rattle its cage.  He denied it.

But, it wasn’t just the eyes, he now realized that he found her remarkable, or maybe the right word was _impressive_ , and this gripped him with immediate and suffocating remorse for what he felt he _had_ to do.

Mr. Quinlan would _forever_ anguish over what happened next.


	12. 3.2 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

It was getting increasingly difficult to focus, and so very many scenarios skipped almost randomly across her distressed mind. They weaved in and out in an almost whimsical manner; some even too fast for her to fully process. It wasn’t the best time to perform a retrospective on her actions over the last several days, but she picked out the leading contenders, and mused on them anyways.

The obvious one first, of course.

**_She should have just left him to die …_**

Just, let the sniper finish him. Remained hidden and protected. She knew she was no longer safe there, because she’d had been careless attempting to clear out a near by factory days before and the red circles had seen her. Her fondness for the security of her factory had made her overconfident. But … she could have used the distraction that they had afford her and stole away into the cold night.

She liked the second option far better than the first, still.

**_Let the Shiny Man shoot him …_**

She could have waited for the _Shiny Man_ to be within her grasp. He would have never been able to touch her again, and that bittersweet revenge that she had refused to even let herself fantasize about would have been hers.

“NO … please, don’t … our last thoughts can’t be of _that_ … of ... _Yesterday_ is dead.” Her internal dialog had been unusually silent until now. She expected herself to boast about being right, but then there was just silence … again. She was now more alone than she had ever been.

She wondered if she would have even had long term regrets if she had let him die. She might have forgotten it by _tomorrow_ or maybe just _eventually_? No, she knew she was incapable of letting him die, even in hindsight, because no matter what she had done to survive up to _this_ point, she was just simply not that kind of person.

She continued.

**_If she had waited to free him and feed him until Dawn …_**

The use of her new name pleased her. Yes, that might have worked, or maybe not. His breathing had gotten shallower as the days went on. He might not have lived? Maybe, maybe not? It would have been a risk, but definitely better than what had transpired at least. What else?

**_Come back and actually explained the situation to him better before they had arrived …_**

Yes, _this_ was it. This was her favorite “What should you have done” idea, not that it mattered now, though. He might have just attacked her anyways, yes, but it was the apology that he offered before _**it**_ happened that made her second guess his initial true intentions. She is very good at reading people, and it was possible, while unlikely, that she had completely misread him? It didn’t matter now.

Ugh … _That apology_. She thought back to the creature in the metal box, and how she had also apologized to it, carrying the sad little thing back for its certain execution. And she was indeed correct, exchanging places with the little mammal, she really didn’t give a flying fuck about his apology.

_Alas … She digressed …_

When it was apparent that the _mindless_ were close, she witnessed his demeanor change _instantly_. His body stiffened and she could see something in his stone face shift. What had it been exactly? She knew what she thought she had seen, but given what happened, it really didn’t make sense. She saw, she heard … _sadness_.

She was sure that they would have been **SAFE** if they had just stayed **QUIET**. But she knew he didn’t know this and there hadn’t been time to explain it fully. _Fuck_. She knew that wasn’t true though and it had nothing to do with _over sleeping_. There had been time, and plenty of it. She delayed; she had dilly-dallied too long. She could have spoken quickly when she first came back, instead of doubting herself, instead of being so damn awkward.

In her, though be it useless, defense, they usually didn’t come back this quickly. It meant they were sleeping closer by, and she thought it was a good idea she didn’t try the traps in the other … the other … what was that word again … buildings? … factories. Her mind was … starting to cloud.

 _Fuck_.

Everything had become one big stream of her conscious thoughts, and she **regretted** everything right now. She replayed the last several minutes again in her mind. Slowly and painfully …

 

* * *

  


_Oh shit_ , was the last thing she remembered thinking before …

He had been so _damn fast_. She had seen how fast he was from the scaffolding, but it seemed faster up close. And, she had hesitated? _FOR FUCK’S SAKE._ Maybe it was because of _stealth_ mode, maybe it was because she hadn’t registered his movement fast enough, but she knew both of those reasons had only added to the tragic outcome slightly. And, in all honestly, she’d had no real intention of shooting him at all. It was, completely and utterly, a _bluff_. And he called it.

The night before, she had spent hours watching him sleep. She knew this was admittedly creepy, but no one was around to really judge her anymore. That was one of those little known benefits of living into the Apocalypse. Something familiar had gripped her and she had realized how incredibly lonely she had been. He offered something to her that she’d lost … was it _hope_? Could she leave this place? Would he help her? Could she convince him to help her?

And so, she flinched, but she hadn’t expected his action, an impressive movement down and to the right, before he lunged through the air nearly six feet and firmly grabbed the barrel of the gun. He had shifted it out of his direction, but the shock of the act caused her finger to squeeze.

The flash really wasn’t as shocking as the sound. It was deafening and a good sized chunk of the wall on the other side of the bed exploded out. The kickback would have been substantial, but his grip on the weapon had prevented it from moving entirely. _Shit_ , he’s _strong_. By the time that thought occurred, it was already completely out of her grasp and he had swept it onto the floor in front of the dirty table. His movements were graceful and well planned.

_Oh god._

She gripped either side of the table and attempted to hold it in place, her eyes were wide with adrenaline, but he grabbed the opposite side and effortlessly chucked it quickly and cleanly to the left and against the wall of curious little cubes. The tools and everything on it crashed to the floor, as the table itself crushed and broke apart into dozens of pieces against the small boxes and concrete. The force that was required to cause that much damage … _jesus_ , and this was him _wounded_.

Her mind raced, now with all thoughts happening concurrently:

  * _MY BULBS!_
  * Too strong
  * Too much noise
  * I am so royally _fucked_



Now, there was nothing between the two of them and he towered over her by at least a foot. He stepped forward, now within arms length, reaching out and grabbing both of her shoulders, he pulled her close to him. She wasn’t fighting back, and in afterthought, he realized this had been a significant sign that he had entirely missed.
    
    
         “Fucker should have bit me from back there … “ she thought.

One sharp motion downwards and the Bowie knife was in her grasp.

A wicked little smile graced her overly freckled face.


	13. 3.3 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

He normally would have heard this, but he had already made the assumption that the fight was already over _and_ he was distracted with his own task at hand.  He had opened his mouth, and his tongue had barely begun to split apart when he saw that _glorious_ little smile and then the sharp pain of metal against his ribs.  This caused him to wince, grunt, and step back abruptly.

_Damnation!_

The knife was actually impressively large and she had concealed it very well.  He wasn’t even sure where it had come from; her loose clothing likely helped obscure it.  But the blade was now completely through his side, all the way to its hilt, and it had grazed his ribs, cutting bone as it went.  If he had been human, _this_ would have killed him.  He would have immediately collapsed.  But he was _not_ human, and it did _not_ kill him.

If she had known his anatomy better, he had absolutely no doubt that she would have been able to place it better in order to incapacitate him or even kill him outright.  That was careless, he would not make that mistake with _her_ again.

In hindsight, he would wonder why he had even moved the table aside.  He could have reached her from his side, easily.  And if she had been pinned behind the table, none of this struggle would have had to occur.  But for some reason, he had wanted more control of her.  He had wanted to make it more personal.  He had wanted to _touch_ her first.

He pulled the blade out quickly with a disgusted grunt and threw it into the far corner and out of her direction.  It wasn’t silver, so there wouldn’t be any lasting effects, but best if she didn’t get a second chance at _that_.  He knew he was not at his best, but damn, he hadn’t even seen it coming.  He then shifted his attention back to his clever prey and saw her lunging for the crossbar now.

Oh gods, not _that_ thing again.  The blood had helped him remember enough from the night before, enough to remember its distinct shape before she had downed him with it.  She had swung it clean and she had swung it well.  And he knew that she could swing it _hard_.

It was already more than halfway out of its slot by the time he arrived. _Nope_. He was behind her now, and he swatted the metal back down into its resting place before grabbing her wrist and spinning her around completely.  He firmly pushed her back against the wall next to the door.  He thought it best to hold both wrists this time, and his remaining hand found hers swiftly, thwarting its attempt to gouge for his eye.  Desperate and _dirty_.

He now had her pinned, but she was still determined to struggle and her knee came up sharply.  Quintus stepped back slightly, just out of its reach, but as he had looked down to avoid the knee, her head came forward, in an attempt to connect the top of her skull with his jaw.  That combination was calculated and it made him grin slightly.  He was faster than she was, and neither strike landed on its intended target.

Her face contorted with frustration as she furiously pulled at her wrists.  He could tell she knew how to break this grip, as she tried to spin her wrists against the weakest part of his grip: his thumbs.  And if he had been a _human_ , he had no doubts that she would have broken herself free.  But he was _not_ , and her wide eyes closed tightly for a moment as she realized the fight was over.

And as much as he was actually enjoying this match, it was taking longer than he expected and he could hear the creatures distantly attracted by the noise starting to make their way towards the commotion.   _They_ were still on the 5th floor, as far as he could tell, so he had a bit of time still.

“I am sorry … _Dawn_ ” he had offered her round eyes before she saw his tongue split apart.


	14. 3.4 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

It latched quickly and snugly onto her neck. He felt her body tense, but it wasn’t until the stinger’s internal mouth trespassed greedily into her flesh that she had offered up any noise at all and at this, she _whimpered_.

He despised that noise. It was always the same and it always made him feel the same. _This_ was the monster that he was. _This_ primal and savage being. _This_ barbarian. _This_ is why he could never truly be a part of humanity. He had come to despise feeding in general over the millennia, and though working for The Ancients had eased this chore, through a continuous and convenient supply of human minions. He had never had to kill them, unless he had so desired, and the promise of eternal life through subservience was enough that they allowed the feeding. Occasionally mistakes were made.

One of the few reasons that he had come to appreciate the modern era was what it now afforded him in this respect. The Ancients simply started to have blood delivered. No need to look at people in the face, no need for possible death, no more desperate whimpers. No more _interacting_ required at all.

It’s generally hard to gauge how much blood a human can lose before the hypovolemic shock sets in; a human can survive easily having lost 20% of their blood volume. The danger arising when you take more than 30%. Anything more than 40%, and the human would likely die. He had gotten very good at estimating volumes while he fed, but it really is difficult to try and gauge that figure while you are drinking from the source itself. He’d found that the heart rate was the best indicator of this. The more rapid it beat, the more the body was struggling to get oxygen to its brain.

If she had been larger, he thought, he might have only been able to take what he needed and leave her alive. If she had been Mr. Fet, there would have been no problem in Quintus wanting to spare her life. He’d often mused to himself in thought that Mr. Fet might be able to feed him for months on his own. He would NEVER mention that fact to him though, he already didn’t like Quinlan enough as it was. Alas, she was _not_ Vasily and she was small, so he knew this was simply not possible; he was famished _and_ wounded … _and_ cornered.

But, right now, he was not hating this act itself at all. He was actually hating how much he was now _enjoying_ it. As he felt the first burst of blood spill in, he let out a relieved moan. God, she tasted … she tasted … he wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. She tasted … _off_ , and really not in a good way, at least not yet. Perhaps a diet of junk food had this affect on modern humans?

At this revelation, he was disappointed, because he had honestly expected her to taste _quite_ lovely and he didn’t think he liked whatever _it_ was, but he continued to _pull_ as he felt it was indeed making him stronger.

 _They_ had made their way back to the stairwell now and were heading down. They were closer to the 3rd floor. He needed to hurry.

He released her wrists completely, for any attempt at struggle was now futile; he had her. Even now, she had still attempted to step to the right. _Nope_. He caught her with his right hand, around the back of her head, his thumb resting gently on her jaw and he pulled her back into place firmly. Her hands went up to his chest and she tried to push but she was already weakening, fast.

Gods, she was _so defiant_ , and he _regretted_ yet again. If the situation had been different, he was sure she really would have made a good ally. He felt bad that she was still fighting. Admirable and ultimately futile. _Poor human_ , he thought, but he knew that he would fight up until the end as well so he quickly shelved whatever pity he was feeling for her as he knew that she was not the kind of person who would have any use for it.

He had been watching her face at first, her eyes, until they had swelled up with tears, and he closed his. _I am so very sorry_. All that he could feel right now was her heart, its rhythm increasing with each pull, her blood, being savaging stolen into him and her body, breathing heavily.

He took deep and long but steady pulls from her, and even though he felt increasingly rushed, he did not pull too fast or too hard. Veins would collapse if you pulled the blood too hard, and there was a deal of pain with a hard pull. He did not wish her unnecessary pain, and he was feeling better already, impressively so.

She was no longer trying to push him away. Now, she was holding his shirt within her small fists, hoping it would give her support to continue trying to stand on her own. But, her body began to lose footing and his free arm swung under her and pulled her up and off the ground, bringing her frame firmly against his. She was easy to hold.

He pulled her so tightly that he unintentionally, but gently, crushed her curves against his chest. Her loose clothing had hidden their true volume, and the discovery of this caused him to _rattle_ intensely.

 _Gods_ … he hadn’t meant to rattle, and this caught him off guard, but he was now unable to stop. The _rattles_ continued and he could feel himself begin to lose control completely to the act itself. He hadn’t lost control in this way in over a millennium now: it had been that dark eyed girl in the brothel in Barcelona, 914 AD; that young girl that had reminded him of **_his wife_**. Dawn did not remind him of **_her_** at all though; she was something entirely … his trail of thought was lost and his body had now started to shudder in unison with each rattle.

But, his deepening euphoria was suddenly and ruthlessly interrupted when she whispered something under her breath.

Something _distinct_ and _familiar_.

Something _powerful_ and _personal_.

 

* * *

 

 

Oh god, her heart … it was beating so fast now. She hoped she would lose consciousness soon. It … it would be a mercy. She was so _tired_. So very, very _tired_ of running … of surviving … of _this_.

But, she would _not_ beg him. She hadn’t begged the _Shiny Man_ and she hadn’t begged _the one_ ; she had just repeated those verses over and over and over again to them. Through the lashings, through the beatings, through that exquisite and well planned pain, she had repeated that same poem to them.

As if she was a prisoner of war, and that poem had been her name, rank and serial number. As if she had been a captured soldier, facing certain death, she had hummed, even purred, _those words_. And it really wasn’t far from the truth because this was a war, wasn’t it? She didn’t really consider herself a soldier though, at least not _yet_.

Funny, she couldn’t even remember the name of the actual poem now. Some deep and hidden part of her mind was now saying it was important; right now, in this moment, in his arms, lost somewhere in his ecstasy, it was the _only thing_ that mattered anymore. This was the piece of her mind that she hadn’t heard since the night of her escape. It was the piece of her mind that terrified her; the piece that her husband had even come to fear. She corrected herself with great sadness … _ex_ -husband.

The name was lost now, hidden amongst the frolicking spider webs of confusion, deep in her complete despair … she couldn’t remember many things anymore, but the verses came easily. They always had … All of them. It had given her hope; it had afforded her strength.

When the torture had started, she had repeated many things, but this was the one that _it_ had _hated_ so completely. This one had power over _it_. It made _it_ angry and she liked making _it_ angry, so she had repeated it over and over … and over. Having some form of control over the situation had kept her sane. Saner? Sane-ish? Heh, yeah right.

 _That_ had been different though … she knew they had had no intention of actually killing her. Pain, yes, but not _death_. Quintus … Quinlan, as he _now_ called himself, was _killing_ her.

So, she chose her last words from those special verses, those words that had kept her soul alive all those dark nights in that cell. It was fitting, and she was pleased with it. Quinlan might have stolen her body. He might have defeated her in battle, but he would _never_ possess her _soul_.

Her eyes became fierce, and her voice was stable and confident now: “ **I am _still_ the captain of _my_ soul** … _you asshole_.”

Hell … it even rhymed. _Nice_.


	15. Interlude

Out of the night that covers me,  
Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
I thank whatever gods may be  
For my unconquerable soul.  
  
In the fell clutch of circumstance  
I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
Under the bludgeoning of chance  
My head is bloody, but unbowed.  
  
Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
And yet the menace of the years  
Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.  
  
It matters not how strait the gate,  
How charged with punishments the scroll,  
I am the master of my fate:  
_**I am the captain of my soul.**_

– [“ **Inv** **ictus** ”, William Ernest Henley](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invictus), 1875


	16. 3.5 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

Quinlan pulled out of her abruptly. He tilted her limp face up to look into those addictive eyes. They were now fluttering between waking and sleeping. She was seeing everything from _in between_ both now. They were still open, and that was a good thing.

His face was full of questions now and his brows contorted with almost human like expressions; he was normally so good at hiding all of these, but her voice had been a sharp awakening call to him. She had caught him off guard, _yet again_.

He knew those words and he knew them _well_ , for Mr. Henley … William, as he had known him … had written it about _him_ , after all. They were from [Invictus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invictus). Not many alive, other than The Ancients and The Master himself, knew him or had ever called him by that name. Not even The Professor. He had simply become known as _The Born_.

Did she know? If she had known what he was, why had she even asked that night she saved him? And if she had known, why would she have ever tried to restrain him with just Duct Tape?? He quickly glossed over the fact that it had been successful, as it would have been too risky a gamble _if_ she had, indeed, known him. No, everything about her actions showed that she had underestimated him and what he was capable of; she couldn’t have know what he was … _who_ he was, could she???

He was missing something, but he wasn’t sure what it was yet. Unease flooded his already tense body and now he had regretted his actions even further. He would have liked answers and there were simply too many questions. But, he was quickly running out of time.

 _They_ were at the first floor now and were continuing to the basement. He could hear at least 10 distinct foot falls now, and more on the way.

He lifted her legs into a cradle in his arms; She was lighter now than she had been and he held firmly, squeezing and taking in a deep breath of her. His face touched her hair, and even through its greasy appearance, he could still pick up the faintest remnants of a botanical scent. It was _lovely_.

He carried her to his bed, gently laying her down. He wasn’t sure why, but he touched her cheek for just a moment before continuing on. On this gesture, he wondered who she actually was. He longed to know her _real name_. He knew it had been a lie, she had hesitated far too long before responding to his query and he was so very good at detecting treachery. But, he hadn’t pressed, as she had just afforded him his own name change as well.

He could hear her heart beating; it was beating fast, _too fast_. He already knew from the rate that he had taken _too much_ , more than he had even needed, and he would have taken even more if she hadn’t spoken; he had gotten so lost. He knew at this moment, in her current state, she was going to die.

And now … she watched _him_ , from the bed, unable to move, just as he had watched her minutes before.

But, they were coming and he was **_strong_** again, impressively so. He briefly considered putting on his shoes, but dismissed it for now. It was a waste of time, and he’d fought barefoot before. He picked up the rifle. _Damnation_ , only 2 rounds left. He slung it over his shoulder and unsheathed his sword. He swung back around and caught her gaze once more before removing the crossbar from the door and opening it quieter than she thought possible.

The bar was heavy, a good weight. This had definitely been the cause of his memory problems. It might come in handy if this were desperate. He set it to the side for now, in the same place that she had rested it when she left him earlier.

Opening the door, he immediately took note of the lights that were strung up, and the generator to which they connected. She spoke, or tried to speak … it had become nothing more than whisper now: “mercury … “ she paused, displeased with what she’d mustered the strength to say and tried again … “UV”.

He heard her words clearly and he understood the second word … the hallway wasn’t just a choke point, she had turned it into a kill box. The bulbs were large, peculiar and _powerful_ ; now he knew what she had been hoarding in all those strange boxes and he’d crushed a good majority of them with that table. _Damn_.

But … _this_. Yes, _this_ might will work.

He had turned back to her as she spoke and he saw something else shine a bit, peaking out from under the corner of the bed. Curious. Pulling it out, it was a strange thing indeed, and it took him a moment to realize what it really was.

She had taken a metal stick of some kind, likely from a mop, but removed that end entirely, just leaving the handle. She had massacred 4 of those ceramic-based dome lamps to make it. Removing the dome from each of the bases, she had attached them, at the end of the stick, in a circle, each pointing outward, perpendicular to the handle itself. In each of the bases was housed one of those large peculiar bulbs. Each had a cord, that fed down into its internals through the top of the stick.

He felt something heavy inside slightly rattling around. He had pulled it out and was holding it directly vertical, looking at it curiously, when he heard that soft voice again, “ _my_ … “ a stutter … “sun stik” was all she managed: the words were accompanied with the faintest of smiles. He could see that even now, she was still _proud_ of it.

She had wrapped the entire thing with spiraling Duct Tape – of course – and it had actually made it perfect to grip. It was obvious that she had spent a lot of time getting the spiral absolutely perfect and then had taken a marker to it. There were drawings all over, spirals, leaves and various other geometric shapes. He examined the spirals intently. This had easily taken hours and the spirals were, of course, familiar to him.

He marveled at the strange thing until he realized precisely what it was. She had basically built a giant flashlight staff, and he was sure the inside was packed with batteries of some kind. He decided that it was, indeed, _quite clever … genius_ really. But, he had no use for the stick right now though, he had a sun lined kill box, to use, afterall. So, he set it gently back on the ground.

Now … Focus.

They were closer. He could hear them just beyond the hallway, but they hadn’t entered yet. Were they hesitating or could they not find the entrance? Then, a thought had occurred to Quintus, one that he had not even considered earlier in his planning. Had the room been _concealed_?? And if so … _oh gods_ … had he acted **_rashly_**?? His heart paused at the possibility and the thought of it almost crippled him from advancing.

There was no time for further debate when he heard destruction from outside of the hallway, things getting thrown around and then the knob twisted. Whatever the case had been, it was too late. They had found it now.

And, he knew, with his own wicked little smile, that this was going to be _**savage**_.


	17. 3.6 - Regret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

The first wave really didn’t have a chance. He baited them well. When they had opened the door, they had seen him standing there very briefly before he stepped back into the room.

They piled into the hallway, making their way to him. _Pathetic_ creatures. Before they were even three quarters of the way down, he’d stepped out and flicked on the generator. The bulbs were a great deal stronger than the fluorescents, and the strigoi screamed, but not for very long at all.

He smiled at this but soon winced at the brightness and heat himself. Strong indeed. He reached down to turn off the generator again when he heard her soft voice … “don’t”

He hesitated and stared back at her. Even after what he’d done to her, she was offering him some kind of help. This saddened him _greatly_ , as he assumed she thought she might actually still live? Had she thought that he had spared her life?

“ … cool down … “ she was struggling even more now, “10 mi–” and then he saw her last conscious thought fade away. Her eyes shut and Quintus _hated_ himself. Her chest still heaved with heavy breaths.

At the point when consciousness is lost, Quintus had seen humans last various amounts of time longer. He guessed that she likely had an hour to two at _most_ before her internals would start to shut down now. He had seen one impressive soldier last three, but that had been _unpleasant_ to witness.

Don’t turn them off? 10 mi? Miles? Minutes? what? _Damn_. Don’t turn them off for 10 minutes? That wouldn’t make any sense at all, and Quintus reached down and flicked the generator off. Something sharply occurred to him right as he did this, and then he immediately attempted to flick it back on. _Nothing happened_. The generator purred and he finally deciphered what she had meant to convey.

10 minutes cool down _if_ he turned them off.

_**GODS DAMN IT.** _

Unfortunately, the next wave arrived in less than 10 minutes. Kill box or not, they didn’t last long in that choke point. The third wave arrived nearer to the 10 minute mark, and while he was finishing off the last of them, the lights clicked back on automatically. _Convenient_.

 

> Will you miss me?  
>  When there’s nothing to see?  
>  Tell me, how did this come to be?  
>  And now there’s no hope for you and me

 

He had time now … he couldn’t hear any thing above or directly around the area. He needed to move fast. He went back to the room and quickly slid on his boots finally, then he stared at the dying woman on that uncomfortable bed.

He would finish it quickly here, _right now_. He had done it many times. He sneered at the thought, but he was a good executioner. And it would be a _mercy_ , right? Or, he could leave the lights on and simply let her fade away, but he knew the generator would eventually run out, then the next wave would arrive. If she was still alive then … Would he leave her to become infected? From the very little that he knew of her, he did know that she wouldn’t want that fate.

Then, he sat on the bed and touched her face once more. He would not drink her again, even though he intensely desired it. He would not steal whatever strength she had left. No, he would let her take that with her. He had been enough of a thief today.

Instead, he placed his gloved hand across her jaw. He coaxed himself: just one quick movement; one quick _snap_. He had done it before, he repeated yet again, so very many times. It was a _mercy_ , he repeated to himself **_again_**. But, deep down inside he knew this was not how a warrior should die, and she had fought him so _very hard_.

His body tensed as he prepared himself for the act and he took a deep breath, but … _nothing happened_. He gave an enraged growl followed by an infuriated rattle and instead of doing what he had commanded himself to do, he stood and attempted to shake the uneasy feeling from himself.

He collected everything that he needed to start making his way back to the city: his empty guns, his vest, jacket, coat, dagger, sword, rifle. When he had picked up his jacket, he had seen the vest underneath, and he took particular note of it. In all the disarray of the room, tools, weapons, trash, strewn about, she had taken great care to fold the vest, as if it had been as precious as those bulbs.

He decided to take a few of the intact bulbs that were left and stuffed them into his coat pockets. And he took the stick, _her_ stick; it was precious. He hadn’t spent the time to see out how to turn it on yet, but he’d figure that out later.

He walked to the door and did not look back as he entered the hallway. He left the generator on as he passed and he walked briskly down to the end of the long corridor, all without looking back, and stepped through the open door into the room beyond.

“ _ **Don’t**_ ” he commanded himself sternly, but his body was already turning around in defiance. He was already looking back in the direction from which he had just come and at the little room beyond the shining hallway.

The barbarian gladiator _hesitated_ , but only for a moment, as he continued his torturous journey into the locker room.

_Destiny._

_… and revenge._


	18. 4.1 - Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters 1 - 4 of this fic are in desperate need for a once-over and re-write. I wrote them quickly and before I had a Beta reader. I will be cleaning up the grammatical mistakes and clunkiness of the writing, but until then, please bear with me. It's free after all.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> As I rewrite them, I'll remove this message too! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

> _If I wait too long_  
>  _I’ll lose you from my sight_  
>  _Maybe tonight_  
>  _I could stop dreaming_

 

 _Destiny_.

 _Fate_.

There exists the subtlest of differences between these two. The difference is profound and it was one that Quintus had actually missed, even in all of his two thousand years. He had often interchanged them. His Destiny. _His Fate._

But, destiny is almost tangible in nature. You see, destiny is _known_. It is the summation of the events that are believed to control what will happen in the future. It is the end result, if you will, the culmination itself. What he would do, the very reason for his existence, would result in the fulfillment of his destiny: _destroying his father_.

And, he had assumed, albeit incorrectly, that he was the one who was responsible for achieving it. It was something that he had always needed to work towards. He felt like the achievement of his destiny was entirely up to him, based on his actions and decisions alone. He had almost thought it was just an optional outcome, one that he, and he alone, simply had the _potential_ to fulfill.

He was the responsible party for executing said destiny, right? He was [the master of his fate](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invictus), right? This … _assumption_ … had controlled, and continued to control, every aspect of his prolonged existence. Completely. Utterly. Every decision, every movement, every thought, every emotion, geared towards _one glorious end_.

Fate on the other hand, is not as tangible as destiny. Destiny can be _known_ , whereas Fate simply exists. It is the force that enacts its will in order to push and achieve destiny. It is the power that shapes the events that result in destiny.

What Quintus had failed to grasp, in all of these many years, was that his destiny had never been, in fact, up to him, his actions, or even in his control at all. His destiny was up to the exertion of Fate’s will alone.

But as he would come to understand over the next months, he wasn’t controlling anything at all and he never was. It had been that sneaky and invisible little hand. And just as all myths were no more than exaggerations, coincidences were merely inevitabilities.

You see, it had not been a _coincidence_ that Dutch was in that convenience store that destined night. It had not been a _coincidence_ that Fet happened upon that doctor in that medical supply warehouse. It had not been a _coincidence_ that Gus was the only one to walk out of Stoneheart alive. It had not been a _coincidence_ that young Jewish carpenter crossed paths with that shiny Nazi. It had not been a _coincidence_ that The Master had failed to kill his mother. And it had not been a _coincidence_ that they had gone to that strange reptile supply factory two nights before. There are simply no coincidences when Fate is involved.

Destiny or Fate.

…

Destiny is what drove Quintus to leave her in that small concrete room.

 ** _Destiny_**.

…

But Fate …

 ** _Fate_** is what forced him back.


	19. 4.2 - Fate

> _I get swept away_  
>  _When I think of you_  
>  _Take me to that place_  
>  _Where it’s control I lose_

 

Quinlan had made it as far as the last row of lockers, before he hesitated, now for the second time.

“ **Don’t** ” he growled to himself again, this time verbally, and much louder than he had intended. But, just as the first occurrence, it had no effect on the outcome. He paused, and turned. They would be coming again, he had no time for _this_.

The debate that occurred next was short and decisive: “But, how had she known of _Invictus_?” He would later recognize, when realizations had set in, this was not why he had _really_ turned back, but it was just the proper push that he needed right now to subdue further resistance from himself.

In the end, there would be many things that he realized had contributed to driving him back: _Invictus_ , her bravery, curiousness and kindness … but, every emotion that he felt right now, everything that invaded and flooded over him like an avalanche had all been started with one simple thing, one clever and manipulative little thing placed in his path millennia ago by that dubious invisible hand: the _dragonfly_ , the one that he had seen in her eyes.

If he wasted further time, then they would need a good distraction. Carrying her would not necessarily slow him down, but it would prevent any fast reactions if they were needed. He removed the cap on the gas tank of the generator and peeked curiously within. It was roughly half full. He was pleased. This would do nicely, then kicked it over and let its contents spill down the length of the hallway.

When he reentered the room, he was oddly relieved to see her again; she breathed still. _Of course, I’ve only been absent but a moment_ , he scolded himself harshly.

He had two, possibly three, discernible options for how to proceed next, and he played them over in his head as he attempted to slide the sun stick carefully between the straps of his back harness. He tightened the harness in an attempt to ensure the stick wouldn’t move, but it still slid down. He didn’t wish to leave it; it was precious. He surveyed the messy little room when something caught his eye in the jumbled pile of tools and food that he had knocked to the ground. He smiled. He had become all too familiar with that spindle of silvery tape.

While he worked quickly to attach the staff securely to his leathery straps using far too much of the sticky substance, he played the options again. He needed to get her to the Doctor for medical attention and if that failed, to the Professor for his elixir. The third option he liked the least: find a functioning health center. He’d seen none operating since The Fall. This was definitely the least viable option.

He returned his harness to his back and swung the rifle over his right shoulder. He mused to himself that he must look like a walking street lamp at that moment. He grabbed her large jacket and scooped her up within it. It was cold, and if they needed to hide, it would be best to cover up as much of the human scent as possible.

He returned to the start of the kill box hallway, on the end that entered into the locker room. Turning back and shifting the majority of her weight onto his left arm, he let the sniper rifle drop effortlessly down from his right shoulder and into his grip. The shot was precise, of course. The generator and the surrounding floor burst into flames.

 _Damnation_. What a waste of a silver bullet, and he only had one shot left now.

It mattered not. He was up and out of the building, heading to the North, before they would arrive again. He was moving fast and they missed his exit entirely, as they rushed back toward the smoking building, heading for the basement room to which The Master had bade them.

He replayed his original arrival to the area, when Mr. Fet had driven them all there, and it had been a _long drive_. Even in a vehicle, the journey had taken roughly an hour, Quinlan had estimated. But, Mr. Fet had driven slow _and_ cautious. He would not have the time to be cautious.

He knew exactly how to return, he had mapped every single road, direction and turn on their way. His navigational skills had always been formidable. However, he also knew, on foot, even using his increased small bouts of speed, this journey would take longer than she had.

He reiterated the options in his mind, hoping for the inception of a new one, but was unable to conceive a viable fourth. All three options, he cringed, would require that he pilot a vehicle of some kind.

And, he _so_ hated to drive.


	20. 4.3 - Fate

Everyone was unusually quiet since returning from the industrial district two nights previous.  No one had mentioned what happened; everyone had continued on with their previous tasks.  It was an effort to disregard that what had happened had actually had a significant impact on all of them, and on an emotional level.  That penetrating and crippling assumption: Mr. Quinlan was _gone_.

Abraham was sure that Quinlan would return, simply walking through the door as if nothing had occurred.  When Fet had offered to go back the next day, Abraham had dismissed the idea entirely.  Chances were, the Born would not have stuck around after the battle, anyways.  It was best to stay where the Born knew they would be.

He had happily (well, as happy as the Professor is capable) continued his research into the silver bound book.  But, he paced and looked at the door often.  His hope began to wane after the first day had ended, and had diminished entirely when the following night ended.   _The Born would have been back by now_.

Dutch went back to greedily working on her project.  It had been what they were all hoping for now.  She decided that geolocating The Master had been and should continue to be the main focus.  The interference signal hadn’t shown back up again and she was free to continue tinkering.  Ephraim didn’t really talk, which was unlike him entirely.  He helped where he could, but lets be honest, he mostly just drank and poked at Dutch’s toys.

Fet, on the other hand, was visibly angry.  He went to work fortifying the building, yet again.  He welded and welded, and replaced the crossbar multiple times, making it bigger and better each time.  He seemed to deal with emotions best from behind a blow torch.

He was angry that he was angry, which had made him even angrier still.   _That god damned blood sucker had told them to run_ _and he would follow_.  He didn’t follow.  He had _lied_.  And why?  Why had he sacrificed himself for _them_.  He was a _strigoi_ , right?  And, why did he feel bad now that Quinlan had saved his life?  He should just be glad that he didn’t have to worry about his neck while he slept anymore, right??

Out of everyone, Gus seemed the least affected.  But this was just because Gus was able to cope with loss better than any of them, perhaps even better than Abraham.  He knew that it was a vicious part of life, and he had come to terms with that very early on.  In that respect, he was more like the dhampir than anyone else.  It was _that_ quality that had partly drawn Quinlan to working with him.

But in whatever ways were possible, they had all been affected by the loss.  Whether or not they were capable of admitting it to themselves, Mr. Quinlan had become a member of _their_ team.  He had grown on them and they had come to appreciate his protection and importance.  He was family now … _was_.

Their entire plan had hinged on somehow getting The Master into that box.  There was simply no one capable of doing that now.  But, it was silently known, but not mentioned.  They would need to discuss it eventually.  They would need to, but _right now_ , they mourned in awkward silence, so when the first knock at the door occurred, everyone jumped in complete and perfect unison.

“Oy!” Dutch yelped from behind her computer and jumped up out of her chair completely, “are we expecting anyone???”  she queried as everyone’s eyes lit up to the obvious response.   ** _Yes, thank god, yes, they were expecting someone._**  The knock repeated, this time even louder.  It came from a low spot on the door.  Its volume and location did not seem friendly in nature, and everyone was immediately on guard.

Fet fumbled for his weapon of choice as he realized it wasn’t a knock at all; someone was kicking the door and they were kicking it _hard_.  It repeated, this time more force than before.

Now directly in front of the door, Fet stood completely still, his hand up motioning for silence from everyone, before the group heard that familiar but somewhat frantic voice shout to them from beyond it.

_“Dr. Goodweather!!  Open the door!!!”_


	21. 4.4 - Fate

Mr. Quinlan pulled into the parking lot at an alarming rate.  While getting into the car initially, he had removed the sun stick from his harness with a sharp pull to release it from the tape and had set it on the backseat, along with the rifle, but he left the harness and sword in place while he had driven, just in case he needed access to it quickly.  It had not been as difficult to find a functioning vehicle as he had assumed.  Chaos and anarchy can have that affect on a civilization.

He stopped the vehicle and came around to the passenger side, quickly scooping her up and he was now standing at the door.  He had made it and she was _still_ alive.His heart was racing at almost the same pace as hers now and he welcomed something he didn’t feel often: _hope_.

Since his arms were full of a peculiar little woman, he kicked the door and he could hear the familiar female voice and then shuffling from within.  They were here.  Thank the gods!  He kicked the door again, harder this time, but there was still no further movement from within.   _Damnation_!  He attempted one more kick, before he had called out to them in his immediate desperation.

_“Dr. Goodweather!!  Open the door!!!”_

It was Fet’s face that greeted him as the mountain of a man swung the door wide open.  A strange smile had graced his face and he looked almost happy to see Quinlan.  Odd, that man _despised_ him.

 

* * *

 

The gladiator rushed past without a word and into the security of the building, carrying something carefully in his arms.  He was making his way straight to Ephraim and his face expressed more emotion than the good Doctor had thought him capable.

“Doctor, she has lost a great deal of blood,” he was now standing in front of the bald man, presenting the thing that he cradled by pulling the hood back from around her face.

Ephraim’s eyes grew wide and his training immediately kicked in, “How much blood loss?”

Quinlan’s first response was not helpful, “Too much.”

Ephraim noted that the half-breed was unusually flustered.  He cocked his head to the right and shot the half-blood a raised eyebrow, and he motioned towards the couch.  “How MUCH is _too_ much?”

Quinlan tried to offer some kind of useful information this time, “Likely 30 to 40% of her volume, roughly 60 minutes ago, stage 3, or more likely stage 4 hypovolemic shock.”  He laid her onto the couch and moved aside as Ephraim knelt and began taking note of her.

60 minutes was pushing it, he knew.  Mr. Quinlan had driven fast, probably too fast, in hindsight, _dangerously fast_.  But his reflexes were better than humans and the non-existence of traffic had helped somewhat.  He hated having to pilot those contraptions.

“Where’s the wound? What caused the loss?”  Ephraim snapped his fingers and pointed towards the med kit that was stashed across the room.  His training had told him to determine the cause of the loss first.  Assess the wound and stop further bleeding, but as he looked around, he could see no blood.  Gus jumped for the kit, since he was by far the closest and swiftly had it within the doctor’s hands within moments.

As he pulled her eyes open to look within, Ephraim repeated the question, “What caused the loss?  Is it internal?  Is there wound?”  and at that very moment, he caught a glimpse of blood and he tilted her head to the side to discover its origin.  It was then that he saw the distinctive wound on her neck.  He knew that wound all too well.

“She’s been STUNG.” The doctor attempted to rock away from the woman and tried to stand, “I’m sorry Q, She’s been stung”.  But his movement was halted by the strong hands now pressing down on his shoulders.  Quinlan was holding the doctor in his crouching position in front of his new patient.

He had not really considered what he would tell them.  Part of him expected that she would not survive the drive and it would have been moot to even form a plan.  But now he had hesitated in answering and Ephraim had seen his stinger’s mark.  He knew he had to be honest if the doctor would attempt to treat her.  He knew he would be _judged_.

“Doctor, _**I know**_ , but she is **_not_** infected.  She will need blood.”  Since Ephraim was still unable to stand, he turned his head towards Quinlan and as their eyes locked, he understood, clearly and immediately what Quinlan had implied.

Mr. Fet’s understanding, however, was delayed, “What do you mean she’s not INFECTED?!  She’s been STUNG.”  In retrospect, Quinlan would realize this was actually a compliment, as the giant man hadn’t even considered the possibility of it all.  At this point, Mr. Fet had already stopped thinking of him as nothing but a monster.

But at this moment, the question only caused Quinlan to get increasingly frustrated with the delays.  His stare, even at the distance he stood from Vasily, was paralyzing, “Because _**I**_ am the one who bit her.”  Quinlan was unable to hide the shame on his face now.

It was curious that he had associated what had happened as a bite, Abraham distinctly noted to himself, as even Mr. Quinlan had generally referred to it as a _sting_ when he had been talking about the strigoi themselves.  Biting was something a human would do; humans don’t sting.

If there had not been a current medical emergency, Quinlan knew he would have been flooded with questions from the group at this point; he could already see them stockpiling the queries in their human brains for use later.

He turned back to Ephraim, “Doctor, please.  There is _little time_.” and the doctor took his cue and quickly continued his exam.  Her respiration was too stressed, her heart rate was too high, her skin was too clammy.  “She’s dying, she needs blood.”

Quinlan was now visibly annoyed at this revelation, as he had already stated it. He sighed, “Yes, she will need _blood_.  I assume you have the equipment necessary for a trans–”  Quinlan was rushed in his speech.  Explaining things was taking too long. 

Ephraim cut him off, “Q, We don’t even know what her blood type is, even if we had blood, _for some reason_ , which we _don’t_. There’s nothing I can do at this point.  We can wait and see if she pulls throu–”

He could see the Doctor had already given up, and this displeased him greatly. In his long life, he found that human usually give up too easily, but he was not _human_ and he was not willing to give up on this quite yet.  The elixir was his next avenue of approach, but that would have only been a temporary fix, so it was undesirable.  His next words escaped as more of a sneer than a simple statement, “ _Mr. Fet will work._ ”

At this, Vasily’s eyes widened … “Scuse me??  I’ll work for what?”  Quinlan had released Ephraim’s shoulders and was now moving towards Mr. Fet, continuing his paralyzing glare.  “Mr. Fet is O-Negative.  His blood will work.”

He had covered half of the distance that he needed to reach Mr. Fet, and continued his approach.  He was preparing to intimidate _or more_ , if it necessary.

“What???  I don’t even know my _own_ blood type.  How do you know _that_??”  He pointed to the limp body, “And I don’t even know _that_ person!”  At this point, Mr. Fet’s resistance was directed more at Quinlan, and his uncomfortable knowledge of his anatomy, than at the act itself or even at helping the mystery woman.

Quinlan smirked and he hoped that Vasily would grasp the gravity of the current situation and its inevitable end, “Mr. Fet, I assure you.  You do not have to be conscious for what needs to happen next.”

Up to this point, Dutch was quietly and intently watching everything, as it transpired, from the safety of her little office chair.  But the impending fight was not something she wanted to witness.  Quinlan would tear him in half.  She quickly jumped to place herself between the exterminator and the barbarian, “hey hey hey, let’s calm down guys, come on!”

Ephraim was loud now, “Hey!  Enough!” and then he directed his question directly to Quinlan, “Are you SURE he’s o-neg?  If he’s not, it might KILL HER.  This is dangerous.”

Quinlan was firm, “I am certain.” … he paused now and looked down at the small figure breathing heavily on the couch … “Is it not worth the chance?  If she’s already _dying_?”  This was more of a plead than a question.  He looked at Fet with guilty eyes; the glare and intimidation had retreated.

Fet’s gaze shifted back to the woman, and he knew he needed to help, regardless of how he felt about Quinlan at this moment.  “She’s gonna die??” he posed to Ephraim.

“If we do nothing?  Probably … Yes.”

Fet nodded, “Whatever she needs, Doc.” and as he walked past Quinlan, making his way to the couch, he pointed a finger in the vampire’s face, “After _this_ though, we gonna talk about how you know my blood type.”

Quinlan responded to his taunting finger, “Fair enough.”

At this point, the fight had been diffused and Dutch took the moment to scowl at Gus and Abraham, “You two were just gonna sit there, eh?”

Gus just smiled and gave a little shrug, “Hey man, I ain’t gonna get between him and anything he wants” and he gave a little motion to the dhampir.  Gus was not dumb, and he read the situation completely clearly.  Quinlan was not about to take no for an answer.

Now, the dhampir simply stood and watched.  There was nothing more that he could actively do at this point, as the humans shifted about, trying to fix his most regrettable action.  He knew that the delayed interrogation would start now, but he was not expecting the first question at all, and it had caught him _off guard_.  And that it was something that was indeed, Dawn’s fault _again_.

Dutch was standing behind him, and her face crumpled up into a confused ball as she launched into her interrogation.  She had been staring directly at Quinlan’s back, specifically his harness.

“Is that … _**Duct tape**_??”


	22. 4.5 - Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was important to play up Dutch's reaction in particular, because I think that even the thought of it would affect her the most, considering what she went through with Thomas.

Vasily sat patiently on the chair next to the couch, the needle taped securely to his arm.  He was trying desperately not to move an inch.  He hated needles and the thought of it being lodged inside of him made him nauseous.

When Ephraim had produced the large needle, he’d seen Fet’s eyes grow large and he had relentless teased him, “What is this?  Big strong man afraid of a little _needle_?”  Any quip that he could throw at the Ukrainian wasn’t wasted and Fet knew deep down inside that it was residual animosity left from decking the poor Doc.

But it was done, and right now, it had become a waiting game.  Everyone involved in the attempted solution now just sat in the silence.

The others, especially Dutch, now openly lobbed questions at Quinlan.  

“Where have you been?  What took you so long?   _Who is that_??”  Dutch had not given him proper time to answer her previous question about the tape that now graced his leather straps.  He assumed it had been more of an observation anyways.

Quinlan chose the last question to answer, but he had not given it proper thought.  He answered it too quickly and too honestly, “I am not sure.”  He regretted it immediately, as it only led to the next barrage of questioning.

Dutch blinked at the strangeness of the answer, “Wait … you don’t know?  She’s a stranger?   Did you pick her up on the street or something … is she a _stray_??”  Dutch thought that almost a fitting word, since she definitely smelled like a stray.  She could easily have seen Vasily bring home someone who needed help, but not _Quinlan_.  She’d seen him ruthless and uncaring towards humans in general; he would let innocent families die on the side of the street as long as it didn’t slow him down, right?

“No, that is not what I meant.” and then he decided it best to just go with the stranger’s lie for now, “Her name is Dawn.”  But, he could already see that his answer was not good enough for the hacker, and he added, “She was at the _factory_.”

“Wait, _the_ factory??  Where we left you the other night??  Nah, we searched that _entire_ place.”

“She was there.  I believe she was _hiding_.”  In hindsight, he knew that they had not been alone, even when they first arrived.  And he had made the realization on the rushed drive back to headquarters, that he knew someone had been present while they searched those big metal buildings.  He remembered the wind had shifted suddenly just as he had exited the vehicle.  He had picked up a scent in it, and now that the blood had patched his memories back together, he remembered that it was indeed _her_.

A tiny silence passed and Dutch was getting just a bit annoyed now.  He was being reluctant and almost withholding of anything really useful.  Overall, she was more agitated than surprised by that.  Getting any information from him at all had always been like pulling teeth.  She thought that was a bad analogy as she did NOT think it was a good idea to attempt to pull _any_ teeth from him.  Ephraim and Abraham were better at getting him to open up, but they were being painfully quiet at the moment and she was being driven to press due to her own personal demons.

“So … you were at the factory and what?  Decided that you needed a **_snack_**?”  Dutch’s own vulnerability was now in question; thoughts of Eichorst zipped into her mind and she immediately imagined a scenario that was wildly outside of her current mental image of Mr. Quinlan.   _What the bloody hell had he done to her??_

Vasily, sitting excruciatingly still and so quiet to the point of being out of character, winced at the mention of the word snack and looked over at the unconscious female into which his blood was now openly flowing, sadness shrouding his face.  He continued his silence trying not to move the needle.  He was pleased with Dutch’s scrutinization of the happenings.

“ **Mr. Quinlan** ”, Abraham finally chimed in, shuffling over from his seated position slowly.  It was an abrupt interruption to the conversation unfolding, “ **Start from the beginning**.”

Quinlan sighed and glanced to the couch before recanting a much abridged tale of his missing days.  He left many details out as there was simply no need for them, he assured himself.

“I was overwhelmed by the hoard.  I became wounded.  There was silver.  She aided me.”  This much was true.  Quite a bit simpler than the actual happenings, but true nonetheless.  He was pleased with his summary.

Dutch interjected now, “She helped you??  And then to show your gratitude … what?  … you decided to _eat her_???”  Dutch really wanted an answer to the question, but Abraham raised his hand to shoosh her, in an annoyed manner that only an old man can properly convey.  His mannerisms were easy to read: “ _Let the damn man **finish**_.”

“She removed the silver” he continued.  “But … it was _unfortunate_ … more arrived and in my wounded state, I would not have been unable to defeat them.  We _both_ would have died.  It was an _unfortunate_ ” he repeated, “and _necessary_ decision given the circumstances.”  Perhaps if he could convince them, then he might be able to convince himself?  Unlikely.

Silently, he noted the parts of the real story in its entirety that he had intentionally kept to himself.  No mention of the sniper, the initial attack, her braining him with a steel bar, her attempt to satiate him with a rabbit, his second attack on her, her near evisceration of him with that damn Bowie knife, his loss of control, Invictus or the fact that, in the end, he had acted rashly.  And most _definitely_ not of the Duct Tape.

Dutch made a grasp at restoring his humanity in her mind, “Ok then … So it was a _mutual_ decision??”  Quinlan answered clearly, but without uttering a single word.  His eyes shifted away from the hers, and became locked on the ground at her feet.  His shame was obvious.

Abraham, however brief it was, was still happy to see him, but he could discern there was more to the story than the Born was willing to share.  It didn’t matter right now, he trusted Quinlan and they had him back.  Good.  Now they could continue on with their original plan.  He only asked one question when it was apparent that Quinlan was done with his storytelling, “What took you so long?”

“I am sorry _Professor_.” his concern actually pleased Quinlan.  He liked this old man quite a bit.  “I was … _deposed_ … for a good amount of time.”  He was pleased of his choice of words again, as it wasn’t an entire lie, right?  It covered both being unconscious and taped up … erm … _restrained_.

The conversation waned and it seemed like it was finished before Dutch’s analytical mind demanded one last detail from the dhampir, “If you were at the factory when _this_ happened?” She pointed at the sofa and she recalled the timeline he’d given Eph when describing her condition, “How the hell did you get back here so fast?”

“I made use of a vehicle.”  He waved a hand towards the door.  The way that his statement was delivered made Dutch feel almost foolish for asking.  Humans were such foolish things.

“Wait … You _drove_??”  This from Fet, who had finally verbalized something and he laughed at it, “Wait … You can _drive_??”

Quinlan’s visage was priceless at that moment, as he looked right into Fet’s eyes from across the room, both insulted and pleased that he would have the opportunity to set this straight.  His _desire_ to pilot and his _ability_ to pilot were two very different things.

And following his next words, Fet now joined Dutch in blushing with crimson foolishness.  They were slowing learning, as The Master had already learned over a thousand years ago.  It was, indeed, foolish to underestimate The Born, in any respect.

“Mr. Fet,” he stated, “ **its two pedals _and a wheel_**.”


	23. Interlude 1 - Myths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on sprinkling some interludes that will give more context through the rest of the story here and there. I hope that it doesn’t detract too much from the flow.
> 
> This interlude, in particular, I’ve been wanting to write for a loooong time now. This is who Quintus is to me. It is so clear and so obvious. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> (◕‿◕✿)ノ

 

 

# Myths

History likes to remember _heroes_.  It likes to remember _tyrants_.  It likes to remember _legends_.  But some legends, it likes to remember as _myths_.

But, there are no _myths_.  There are only _exaggerations_.  Right?

However poetic this is, it is flawed in its assumption, as there have been those myths who have transcended the need for _exaggeration_.  There have been those whose mythos was accurate, even though it strayed beyond what is considered humanly possible.

Their actions, their abilities, their deeds, their feats had no use for any exaggeration.  So unfathomable and almost godly that even great men shudder to consider their true gravity.  Among these _myths_ , there exist singular souls who stood against entire armies … _alone_.

These are the souls in which creation itself holds the most pride.  And these are the souls that attract the attention of all of the hidden watchers of our precious little world: the titans and gods, the monsters and muses, the angels and demons, and even **Fate** itself.

At the [Battle of Stamford Bridge](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Stamford_Bridge), in September of 1066, a [**lone Norse man**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Stamford_Bridge), armed with but a simple axe, is said to have held the line against the entire Saxon army at a single choke point on the bridge.  Over the course of an hour, the Viking stood alone and felled over 40 soldiers, allowing his brethren to regroup.  His defeat came only at the hands of a cowardly spear that was thrust up from under the bridge by a hidden opponent.

At the Battle of Wancheng, in early 197, [**Dian Wei**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dian_Wei) is said to have cut down twenty enemy combatants at a single entrance to his camp, allowing his warlord to flee to safety.  He was armed with only a **pole arm** and was said to possess almost superhuman strength.  Even after he was flanked from behind and mortally wounded, he continued to battle the intruders until his death.

In Rome, On January 15, 69 AD, when Marcus Otho conspired to assassinate Galba, [**Sempronius Densus**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sempronius_Densus), a veteran centurion stood alone against the ** _entire Praetorian Guard_** , his brethren who had turned assassin, to protect his emperor.  His strategy started with words, then a switch of vine and finally he drew his sword.  His defense against the mutinous mob lasted longer than any thought possible and he was only defeated by a cowardly blow to the back of his knee.  Though his efforts proved useless, as the emperor fell shortly after he, he is still remembered as performing the only heroic feat in Rome at that time.  Dio Cassius, the historian himself, having said: “ _This is why I have recorded his name, for he is most worthy of being mentioned_.“

At the Battle of Saipan, in July of 1944, a mere Army dentist, [**Benjamin L. Salomon**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ben_L._Salomon), held back an entire Japanese assault who threatened to overrun his hospital and kill the wounded.  He, alone and armed with only a single gun, killed 98 attacking soldiers, allowing the wounded to be evacuated from the scene.  When his body was discovered later, he had been shot 76 times and he was riddled with bayonet wounds.  24 of which are said to have been received while he was alive and fighting.  He was still slumped over his gun when he was found.

[ **Quintus Sertorius**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quintus_Sertorius) is know for many feats and many victories over many years.  But he was careful to keep his most _legendary_ actions hidden away from the thieving eyes of history.  Being born of **_a mere slave_** had afforded him a degree of anonymity and underestimation that he had come to appreciate and find useful.

It had saved his life early on.  He was but _a slave boy_ , and it was that fact that caused the young Ancient to miscalculate him repeatedly.  It would take The Master many years to realize that the fifth invictus was unlike his predecessors.

If he had actually known _who_ the Born was, he would have been careful to dispatch him immediately when he had still been a youngling.  Instead of being apprehensive at the start, he would have been savage and relentless in his pursuit of the abomination.

If he had known _who_ Quintus was, he would have never even bothered to let him out of the cave that night.  There would have been no question whether he might be able to recruit him into his employ.  The risk would have simply been _too great_.

If he had just _known_ , he would have realized that _the invisible hand_ , that clever little force, had stacked the cards against him.

You see, the previous Borns had been born from mere men and were all dead.  They had all failed.  So that invisible hand had worked tirelessly, as it knew, the fifth would need to come from something more, from someone more.  It needed to be born from legend and from myth.

It is known that _Sertorius_ was not his given name; it was his _taken_ name.  It was the only name that he knew, offered to him by a dear friend, but _borrowed_ nevertheless.

You see, it is only _**Fate**_ that knows his _real name_.

Only _it_ knew that his 16 year old mother had been sold into slavery by her  father, when the soldiers had come requesting virgins that day.  Her drunkard of a father had not known the hidden love that had blossomed between her and the blacksmith’s son.  The young man had fought valiantly and _desperately_ , but he could not defeat the soldiers and they had taken his love away, never to be seen again.

And he had vowed he would never be weak again.  That day, the destined centurion put down his hammer and picked up a sword.  From that point on, he promised to protect, and he did, _like none other before him._

In the end, Quintus’ father was 45 years old when he was cut down in the winter of 69 AD and he kept his vow, even to his dying breath.

Only **_Fate_** knows Quintus’ name …

His name is **_Quintus Densus_**.


	24. 5.1 - Blame

It was now daylight, and Quinlan waited so patiently, it was causing unease for everyone else.  He sat and waited, like statue, like a rock.  The Doctor had said that they did what was possible, and now it was a “ _waiting game_ ”.  He did not like the term ‘game’ in this respect, there was nothing pleasing or fun about it.  After the transfusion was completed, he had attached a saline drip and when they all awoke in the morning, she was _still_ alive.  Her heart rate normal, her blood pressure acceptable.

Overall it was a very good thing, but now they just needed to _wait_.  Ephraim had no way of knowing if there had been any permanent damage to any of her internal organs.  [Hypovolemic](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypovolemia) shock is a tricky thing, and without the equipment to perform more tests, it was possible that she might have suffered brain damage of some kind if prolonged lack of oxygen had occurred.  The longer she remained unresponsive, the more likely this was.

Ephraim thought it odd to deliver patient news to Quinlan of all people.  He had plenty of experience at this during his residency, but humans portrayed some kind of emotional tell tales that he could help to navigate the conversation.  Quinlan had just nodded and made his usual “hmm” noise of acknowledgement.  Ephraim could not tell if he was pleased or displeased, so he assumed that he was likely neither.

So the warrior just sat in the chair, watched and waited, _exactly_ as the shorter warrior had watched him, only the night before.  Occasionally, Dutch would catch a glimpse of him fiddling with something in his hand, but each time she noticed, he would quickly return it to the safety of his pocket.  He was surprised that she, of all people, had taken great insult to his actions on the girl, and he knew he would need to work towards gaining her trust again, specifically.  Her reactions were projections, he could tell as much, and trauma was always the biggest opponent of trust.

He played his decisions over in his head in a round robin fashion.  Questioning mistakes over and over again would do him no good, but analyzing the mistakes so that they never occurred again was what he did best.  It was what had made him such an incredible general; analysis is an important part of strategy.

Currently, in his circular thoughts, he was questioning the option that he had selected.  Brain damage, he’d seen this many times on the battlefield.  That would not be an unacceptable existence, if that is what he had sentenced her to.  He wondered if he should have asked the Professor for _his white_ instead, she would be awake already, and quite alive.  She would require it for the rest of her life, but she would be awake and able to answer the questions he wished to pose to her.  He was planning his own interrogation this time.

He had also considered what giving her the _white_ now might do.  It would repair the brain damage itself, yes, but anything that had been lost would be gone.  Memories, both of past events and how to function.  She would have to learn it all again, and that was simply not something they were equipped to deal with at the present time.  No … best to wait and see if there was damage before doing anything drastic … again.

After hours of waiting, when Fet asked if he would accompany him, the Doctor and Augustine on their little supply errand, he at first declined.  But then the Professor had asked him to go with them, in the guise of concern for the human’s safety.  In actuality, it had been because Quinlan’s _patience_ was driving Abraham a bit mad.  Everyone simply wanted to get him out of that damned chair now.

He accepted the Professor’s request and decided that it was a good idea after all.  He needed to pick up supplies of his own as well.  He would need new clothes at the very least and he needed to restock his ammunition.  

He would run their errand, and steal away to his stock house to get his own supplies.  He usually only graced his hideaway when he needed the blood that was stored away within, but he would not need to eat again for a number of days now.  He had _gorged_ himself after all.

Ephraim had asked to examine the holes after he’d removed his coat the previous night and the true meaning of ‘ _wounded_ ’ became painfully obvious to everyone; he had been _riddled_ with bullet holes.

But Quinlan simply waved him off, “That is entirely unnecessary, Doctor.” and it really had been.  He removed the gauze and tape in private to find that he was already healed.  Human blood, _her blood_ , had worked its wonders on his vampire anatomy.

He considered taking the rifle with him, but as there was only a single shot left, it was likely more effort than it was really worth.  So he left it on the counter next to the sun stick that he had brought in the night before.

When he had returned from the car the previous evening, Mr. Fet in particular, was quite interested in the stick and conveyed almost child-like disappointment when Quinlan had refused to let him even touch it.  He realized he’d almost become protective of the peculiar device, and he didn’t even know how to turn it on yet.  He set it on the counter, away from all prying eyes and anyone who approached it received an unfriendly glare.

In an attempt at compromise, he had offered the exterminator the two bulbs that he had pilfered from her stash.  “They are UV” he had stated plainly.

“That’s an odd lookin’ UV bulb, Q” he doubted.

Velders peeked over and interjected, usefully, “Hey, coooool.  That’s a Mercury Vapor bulb … those are wicked bright … and _expensive_.”  She seemed quite pleased with herself, but she often was with her plethora of usually useless knowledge.

The two men exchanged the briefest of looks before directing their gaze to the woman, “What??” she countered their befundledness, “I used to have a lizard, ok?  His name was _[Suse](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SUSE)_.” She grinned wildly now, every more pleased with herself than before, but the joke hit on deaf ears, and she greedily got back to her task at hand, putting on her headphones as to not be distracted by their random conversation.

Quinlan explained a bit further, “I believe _that_ factory specialized in manufacturing these.”

Fet’s eyes lit up and Quinlan could see the gears rolling in his head.  He knew what he was about to say before it had even escaped his lips, “Are you serious?  Dat was a UV FACTORY?  Maybe we should … you know, take a day trip and head back down there.  We could load up on these suckers!”

Quinlan shot down the idea succinctly, “That is no longer possible, I am afraid.”  Fet’s face contorted with minor confusion, and the half-breed continued, “I burned it down.”

Fet had been visibly disappointed but his acceptance was almost immediate.  Of course Quinlan had burned it all down.  He shrugged it off, and decided to make another point, “Well, dat’s too bad.  Seems like a pretty _smart_ place to hunker down these days.”

Quinlan responded with his standard, wordless “hmm” acknowledgement.  He didn’t verbalize the word that he was currently thinking and had used to describe many of her actions thus far.  He was thinking that it was indeed quite _clever_.

So he left her there in the formidable company of the Professor and the distracted hacker.  It seemed like an acceptable thing at the time, at least.  He considered giving them instructions for when … _if_ … she woke, but he wasn’t even sure how to approach that situation yet.  He would have to read her emotional state and plan his responses accordingly.  He had almost thought it better that he not be there when … _if_ … her eyes opened.   _He_ might not be the best thing for her first to see.

And Dawn was _relieved_.

She thought he was _never_ going to leave and her right arm was starting to fall asleep.

 _Damnit_.


	25. 5.2 - Blame

The _thin one_ had been sitting at the computer the entire time, headphoned and furiously typing away.  Dawn wondered what exactly she was doing on her computer, but dismissed her curiosity in whole.
    
    
        “Don’t even think about it … you’ll never get to know.”
    
    
        “Right.  Good point.  I _hate_ mysteries.”

The _thin one_ wasn’t going to be a problem.  She was distracted, intently.  But the _old one_ , Dawn could see that he was old, but observant.
    
    
        “Patience, _grasshopper_.”

It was torture to lay there, completely still, but she bade herself to continue.  She was so good at this technique and it would have been the second time she’d used this to escape captivity.
    
    
        “He’s old.  He’ll eventually have to–” 

And almost as if it was on cue, the _old one_ struggled to his feet and slowly, but expertly, made his way to elsewhere.  She heard a door snap shut.
    
    
         “NOW!  GO!”

**First**.

The needle needed to come out of her arm.
    
    
        “ _UUUGHHGHGHHG, ARRRRRGGGG_!” she silently wailed.

Needles were _NOT_ something that she dealt with well, but it was done and out.  She shuddered.  She was remarkably weak still and her head swam with the sudden movements she made.  In the middle of her vertigo, she thought just for a moment she was sure that she was going to throw up.

The typist furiously continued her work.  Her back was completely to Dawn.   _Good_.  She was slightly between her and the exit.   _Bad_.  She would likely see her move past, _if_ she was not swift.

There was a sound behind her, of something … flushing.  For a moment, Dawn was envious of their running water and she wondered if they had a working shower, but … **FOCUS**.  She looked back towards the room and spied her staff sitting gloriously on the counter.  He had taken it!
    
    
        “ _MY STAFF_!  That **_mother fucker_** …”  There was no way she could get to it.  The _old one_ would be out of the room after he washed his hands.
    
    
        “Dude … seriously??  You are assuming he is going to wash his hands.   **MOVE ALREADY**!”

**Second**.

She needed to haul so much unbelievable ass _right_ now.  A fitting and motivational quote graced her panicked mind.
    
    
        “You are a _fucking leaf on the wind_ , baby!”
    
    
        “Ugh, why do we always pick the _dead characters_???”

When she hit the door, the timing was almost indescribably perfect.  The blonde woman had turned away from her computer and was now furiously scribbling away in her notebook.

Crossbar, down.  She marveled at it for a moment.  It had been welded on.  If she had know how to weld, so many things at her factory would have been easier.  If it had been a manageable size, she might have tried to take it as she had no weapons at the moment.  But it was not manageable and she was barely able to lift it up and out of its cradle, struggling to put it down silently.  Her arms shook and her weakness almost caused her to drop it completely.

She heard more water running, but she was less rushed now.  They wouldn’t be able to get to her before she opened the door.  The _thin one_ might be able to chase her down.  She was tall, and her legs were much longer, but the _old one_ had no chance.

As she pulled the door open, a brisk and chilly wind hit her directly in the face, attempting to force her back into the warmth of the building.  She took a single step back and winced at it.  
    
    
        “Shit, freedom is _cold_.”

She looked back to her coat, now laying on the couch.
    
    
        “ _Oh balls_.”

There simply wasn’t the time to go back for it.  

At that moment, she spied something close to the door, hanging from a hook.  The only thing that might be of use that was within her grasp and she grabbed it.  She fumbled the object, a grayish wool hat, in her hands and determined that it was a good find as stepping out into the cold and realized that it was overcast and currently sprinkling.
    
    
        “God damn you, New York.”

The bathroom door handle began to spin, and Dawn pulled the door closed as quietly as possible and ran, putting the thieved item onto her head as she went.

She ran, as fast as her short legs could manage, and as fast as her fatigued state would allow.

And just as she had promised herself that he would never possess her soul, she made _another_ hollow promise.
    
    
        “The _Pale Man_ will never touch us again.”


	26. 5.3 - Blame

He had tapped her on the shoulder to wake her from her crazed, programming induced state.  She swung around to him, jumping in her seat, and pulled her headphones away.

“Miss Velders …” Abraham’s voice trailed, showing an amount of surprise that she actually didn’t think he was capable of showing.  Abraham was rarely _shocked_.

Now, she followed the direction of his eyes to the empty couch.  The IV line was now laying on the ground and slowly emptying out onto the floor.  Dutch swung around the other direction now, surveying the room in its entirety and noticing the removed crossbar last, “Oooohhh …. _Shit_.”

She immediately stood and approached the door, “Shit …   _SHIT_.”  She swung the door open and looked both left or right.  Nothing.  She turned to lock eyes with the old man, “Shit.”

She then made a movement for her jacket, “Come on!”

At this, Abraham simply stared at her, “Hmm, I’m not sure what our motivation in going after the poor girl would be.”

Velders blinked now, “uhh … she’s not well??  It’s kinda dangerous out there?”

Abraham was having none of this logic, “She’s not our prisoner, Miss Velders, and obviously she didn’t wish to stay and chat with us about what happened to her.  I say we just let her go.  We have more pressing matters we need to worry about.”

And Abraham wholeheartedly believed what he was saying, but he also knew that the woman had been nothing but a distraction since the Born had brought her in the last night.  Her presence was unnecessary and he, quite frankly, didn’t want to have to worry about another person at this point in time.  They all had things to focus on, and she had done nothing but divert attentions.

“Especially _**YOU**_ , Miss Velders.”

The stress of that fact had been crushing Dutch for weeks now.  They were all relying on her now, and she had promised them this was within her ability to deliver.  Everything now hinged on _her_ , so she accepted it though it did make her uneasy about the decision.

Setrakian was usually right, as much as it annoyed everyone, but she followed up, “Fine.  But _you_ are telling _him_.  I want nothing to do with _that_ conversation.”

So when the three returned an hour later without Quinlan in tow, Dutch was relieved, but she knew it would only be a matter of time, “Did you lose someone?” she prodded.

“He said he needed to run his own errand” Ephraim had shrugged and immediately opened his prize from the supply run, pouring the clear, Russian substance into an empty glass and swigging it as quickly as possible.  It had been the entire reason he went, since the last time Fet thought he would be _cute_ , and denied scoring the good Doctor his much needed liquid.

Ephraim had followed up his answer with the same question, after swinging around in a 360 degree twirl, “ _Waitaminute_ … did **_YOU_** lose _someone_???”

No one mentioned it, but everyone had the same thought in unison at that very moment.  No one wanted to be there when the Born returned.

 

* * *

 

His non-response was somehow more troubling than what they had been expecting, which was either disappointment or anger, or hell, even annoyment.  He simply stared at the empty couch as Setrakian offered up a sorry explanation, “She left within a few minutes of your own departure.” The old man shrugged and attempted to be done with the conversation, bumbling back to his own little corner of the room.

Quinlan finally spoke, “You just … _allowed_ her to leave? In her current state?”  He already knew this was not the case, her coat and stick were still present.  Now he prodded for the truth, “What _exactly_ was said to her?”

Dutch blushed, “ummm, well, you see … there weren’t really words exch—” and the Professor cut her off.  He had promised to deal with the Born when he returned, and he usually upheld his promises.

“She left without saying anything.  I apologize, Mr. Quinlan.  I was in the bathroom.”

Now Quinlan turned and intently stared directly at Dutch, waiting for her explanation to follow.  She fumbled with her words, as she often did with him, “Uhmmm, I … uh … I was listening to music.”  She picked up her headphones while she spoke, in an attempt to let her action decipher her words and clumsily pointed at them while she smiled weakly.  She quickly put them back down before biting her fingernail, “ … _I’m sorry_.”

Abraham cut in again, “I’m not sure why this matters.  Your conscious is clear.  It seems like she’ll survive.  She was well enough to leave on her own.  We need to focus on _other_ things.  She obviously didn’t want to stay and chat and I’m not sure I can blame her, given the circumstances.”

The last statement had been calculating as the old man was attempting to shame Quinlan into compliance.  But manipulating the Born wasn’t a task that might even be possible.  The last comment, Quinlan simply ignored and scooped up the woman’s ridiculously large coat and started towards the door.

“Mr. Quinlan, the sun will be down soon and we simply cannot risk the master seeing any of us in this area.  This place is the only advantage we currently–” and something happened that had never happened to Setrakian before; the Born interrupted him.

Quinlan spoke firmly, as if speaking to a child, “ ** _Professor_** … Yes, the sun will be down _VERY SOON_.  It is cold, it is raining and she likely has no idea _where_ she is, no coat, and _no weapons_.  This area is _overrun_ with minions.  She is frightened, alone, and acting _impulsively_.”  Quinlan had just recently become all too familiar with those powerful feelings again, himself.  Quinlan offered up one last crushing point, “And right now, she has no idea that she is _not_ infected.”

The last statement sent Dutch reeling and she sat down in her chair slowly again.  She said nothing, but she knew the gravity of it, because she knew what she would do if she thought she would turn.  She knew the actions that she would take, as did Abraham, if they were ever infected.  The argument, as short as it had been, was over.

Ephraim had finished downing his third glass of the newly acquired alcohol when he offered up a slurred, but important question, “I’m _slorry_ … but … why exactly do yoooooou care?”

Quinlan was unprepared for the query, but the answer was immediate, direct and concise:

“ ** _She aided me_**.”

And with three simple and powerful words, Quinlan was no longer a monster to anyone in that entire room, not even Dutch.  With that concise little sentence, he had proved himself more human than strigoi.  It wasn’t guilt that was driving him to bring her back at this point in time; he felt that he owed her a debt that he was not sure he could pay back, but he was resigned to try.  The strigoi were simply not capable of the honor Quinlan now displayed.

He had been gone roughly 75 minutes and if the Professor was right then she left right after, as soon as the opportunity had presented itself.  Which means, he cringed to himself, she might have been conscious when he was still here.  He would have … _should_ have detected _that_.   _Clever_.

Fet and Gus were now moving to follow him as he swung the door open forcefully.

“That will _not_ be necessary.” he assured them putting an arm up to halt their progression towards him.

It was Gus that offered up a useful purpose for their presence, “Hey man, what are you gonna do if you find her??  Have you even thought about that?  She ain’t gonna be happy to see you.  You gonna carry her back here kicking and screaming??  Probably be good if you weren’t alone.”

The barbarian gladiator was now standing outside, attempting to decide to go right or left down the sidewalk.  He had not considered how to convince her back into their safety, but he realized that he was not opposed to simply forcing her, not in his current state of mind at least, and not with dusk less than an hour away now.

Fet now chimed in, “Can you like … I dunno … track **_my_** blood or _sumthing_??”  and he held his arm out for the dhampir to smell.

Quinlan looked at him, his voice ripe with annoyance as he pulled his hood over his head, “I’m not a _bloodhound_ , Mr. Fet.” 

> _I wake up alone, with only daylight between us_
> 
> _Last night the world was beneath us, tonight comes_

But at that very moment, the smallest of winds picked up and hit him squarely in the face.  He could, indeed, pick up a familiar scent, however faint it had been.  It was blowing from the right, and as soon as Quinlan noted the smell, the gust died away.

He looked back at the two men who were prepared to follow and slipped his glasses on his face.   He now smirked at his last comment; it had not been far from the truth after all.

They had never seen him grin to this extent and it sent shivers distinctly down each of their spines.

“ **Do try to keep up** ,” but Mr. Quinlan was already gone.


	27. 5.4 - Blame

They had been following her for three blocks now.  She supposed it might have been longer, she might not have noticed.  She was more tired than she thought possible, until she remembered _why_ , and then her fatigue made crushing sense.  Each followed in parallel with the other on opposite sides of the street.  

She was pleased that it was daylight, but due to the overcast nature of the day, she was unable to accurately estimate what time it might be, and, most importantly, how much time she had left before twilight.

When she first hit the street, she’d only been able to run for a few blocks before she simply couldn’t continue and needed to rest.  Her heart was beating faster than normal and she needed to catch her breath.
    
    
         “So much for **CARDIO** ” but she knew this was only caused by her drained state.
    
         “God … damn … _bloodsucker_.”

That most scary inner voice had told her to shelve it for now … It was a stretch, she knew, but if she did start exhibiting signs, she would deal with it then, and _not before_.  She knew he was _different_.

Her hand went up to survey the sore spot on her neck where he had violated her.  She could feel that someone had already bandaged it up, and actually, had done a good job as far as she could tell with her curious little fingers.
    
    
        “Ha!  Better than we would have done, eh?”
    
        “ _Not funny._ ”

But it actually was funny to her, and she smiled because of it.  She was a terrible surgeon.  Her thought process immediately trailed back to the _Pale Man_ and her smile vanished.  She had gone back to using his title now, she would not give him a _name_ anymore.

Surveying the area, she could at least tell it was an older neighborhood.  Some of the houses were big, some were small.  She knew nothing of architecture and she decided to simply keep heading away from the larger home that she had just escaped from.  Her head was swimming now due to the sudden burst of physical activity, and she thought it best to keep it to a straight line.
    
    
        “We don’t wanna get confused and make too many of the same turns.”

She was a horribly terrible navigator in general and if she had been in her right mind, she knew she wouldn’t double back, but right now, she couldn’t even remember what direction she had even turned when she had left that prison behind.  Prison?  That was a funny term to use.  They actually hadn’t locked her up.
    
    
        “You were not there of your own volition.”  She corrected her thoughts.

She regretted as she sat on the convenient concrete steps leading into an older looking suburban home.  The home was vacant, or she assumed as much.  Most of the windows were broken out and the door was wide open.

She had no idea where she was.  She assumed some part of New York or suburb.  She wasn’t from New York and without GPS, she wasn’t sure what to do.
    
    
        “Keep moving, like we’ve always done.  Just keep moving.”

For the first time in a long time now, she had no plan.  She didn’t know what to do.  She didn’t know where to go or how she would survive.  She was cold, wet, and now she was hungry.  Her stomach twisted in sharp little growls and she regretted not eating before she released him from the tape last night.  At that last thought, she paused.
    
    
        “Last night?  We actually don’t know how long we were out.  It could have been longer”

Then she felt an odd sense of compassion for the _Pale Man_ that had been tied up to her bed.  That had also been one of the first questions that he had asked.  She shook the feeling and her dialog was concise and short.
    
    
        “Fuck that.  No.  Our situations are nothing alike.   _He_ did this to us.  We didn’t do that to him.”

She now considered doing something extremely dangerous and thought she might look in the house for some kind of weapon, kitchen knife, broom or, fuck, even a coat.  She was cold and now wet.  She was sure the loss of blood didn’t help that matter either.

She knew she would probably be able to defend herself against a _mindless_ _one_ , but it was the red circles that concerned her the most.  If they spied her, “Game over man, game over.”  She agreed with herself.  
    
    
        “We’ve dealt with things without a weapon before.”

Yes, yes she had.  She tried to keep a brisk pace instead of the run.  She could maintain that for longer, and if anything, it would help keep herself warmer, but she needed to rest often and for more extended periods of time at each stop.  She surveyed every yard and car she passed, hoping for something of use, but it had all been picked clean already.

So, she walked … quietly, smoothly and quickly.  And when the men started to follow her, she wasn’t necessarily alarmed.  The day, while not being as dangerous as the night, was still fraught with peril.  Since humanity and society had fallen, the differences between the two were getting slimmer by each passing sun.  When it had all toppled, the weak were the first to go.  Then the strong that had struggled to maintain order had gone next.  Day by day, only those capable of survival were left and many times, survival meant carrying the larger stick.  Those humans that were left now, for the most part, were the ones that should be feared.

And so when she noticed them, she regretted there was going to be a situation that all three of them were going to find … _unpleasant_.

At first, she considered trying to hide in one of the houses she passed, but the likelihood of lurking mindless turned her off of the idea again.  Regardless of what immediate threat these buffoons were going to pose to her, the one would always be more concerning.

But the men were slowly closing on her.  They were both at least 6 feet tall and both were heavily bearded.  They likely had weapons.  So, she continued on her meandering path, hoping that a good venue for the brawl would present itself.  She knew they could run her down if they were so inclined, but they weren’t even bothering.  Smug bastards didn’t even think they needed to, but she knew they had been right.  She was wounded and they could tell by her occasional stumble.

The rain started to sprinkle yet again and now the hat was completely soaked through.  Wool was not a good material for this weather.
    
    
        “Fuck you, _New York_.”

She was slowly coming up to a large open area, full of grass and trees.  The park spanned both side of the road and she considered taking one of the streets that ran alongside it, but that would have afforded her very little protection and they could have driven her into the park.  She cursed herself for not taking the previous street back one block.  She did not want to get caught out in the open with them.  She needed to take them some place where she might be able to take them on, one at a time.  She needed a choke point.

As she passed the last house on the right, she spied something in the back yard, through the open gate and she decided to take a risk on it.
    
    
        “We have no choice now, we can’t risk being in the open.”

So, she increased her pace and she noted that they did as well.  As she went through the gate, she knew this was it.  There was no place of escape on the other side of the yard.  She knelt to pick up the item that she had spied from the sidewalk and she had been correct; it would be useful.

She yanked on the gnome and its long, attached metal stake slid out of the ground, and kept her pace.  She was worried the gnome was freestanding.  Luckily, this was not the case.  
    
    
        “That was a risk.”
    
        “We had no other choice.”

The opposite side yard was very narrow, perhaps four to five feet in width.  Good.  There would be no escape, for any of them.  And that might be a bad thing for her or a _gloriously_ bad thing for them.

She briefly considered ambushing them as they rounded the corner.  She could chuck a chair at one of them, but that wouldn’t work for her sadly.  If she was larger, she might be able to survive a fight against the both of them together … maybe.  They were large.  No, the idea was dismissed.  She needed to take them on one at time, and that meant she would only have one first strike to use.  The other one would see it.

Confining them to a smaller fighting space would server her reach better as well.  Her range was not as great as theirs.  She rounded the other corner and left around 5 feet between her and the end of the side yard.  Enough room to move around, then she breathed.

Mr. Parker sounded in her head, so clearly now even after so very many years, “Little one, you do whatever is necessary.  If someone attacks you, they mean you actual harm.  There are no rules.”  She didn’t want to kill anyone … _not again_.  The last time had haunted her for weeks.

The first man rounded the corner, he was even more bearded than she had first realized.  She _hated_ beards.  He was solo right now, but she could hear his partner not far behind, and he grinned at her, “No where else to go huh, sweetheart?”

She had no idea what their intention was, but it was not friendly and she waited for him to lunge at her first.  She threw the hat to the ground so that it would not interfere with her vision and she prepared herself.  She only had a few seconds now.

Her heart was surprising calm and Mr. Parker’s voice was steady and repeating in her mind, “Remember, _little one_ , they can’t attack you if they _can’t stand_.”


	28. 5.5 - Blame

She was actually glad they were big men.  Big men were easier to bring down than little men.  Big men were always over confident.  Little men had always had something to prove.  They were generally tougher and faster and _meaner_.

But in general, fighting a man was always problematic.  Women, not so much.  She always triumphed in sparring matches against the women, even though she had been so much smaller.  Men had a different density of muscle all around, and she always wound up being more defensive than offensive.  Their punches and their grips were superior to anything that she was even capable of.

Whatever happened next, she couldn’t let him take her to the ground.  If he got her to the ground, it would be over.  She knew exactly what she would do first, she had used it before.  She had filtered down all of her possible first strikes into 5 combinations.  95% of techniques that she had learned over the years were, inevitably, useless.  But that remaining 5%, that was _gold_.

She picked her favorite of the combinations; it was her go-to first strike move because it was always the most effective at incapacitating and crippling immediately and brutally, and this guy was big.  Bigger than she could see out of her peripheral vision on the street before.  Good, he looked like he relied on his knee quite a bit.

She now held the yard gnome, with the stake pointing up like a hammer in her grip, and as he stepped towards her, she was fast to react.  She stepped forward and her leg was up.  She unleashed a cutting kick, into him at a 45 degree angle downwards, directly to the inside part of his knee.  She extended fully with all of her force as she glimpsed the second man begin to round the corner, ambling down the length of the house, but picking up his pace quickly.
    
    
         “ _Oh fuck_.”

The first man let out an impressive grunt, and he went down onto one knee.  He looked up at her now, with crazed eyes.  He didn’t have time to fully react to what he saw next, as she had already started to execute the strike while he was falling, estimating where he would land with precision.

She brought the stake around, in a completely circular manner.  This was, overall, a bad way to deliver _any_ strike as it’s the easiest to block, but she knew he wouldn’t be blocking, and circular motions afforded her far more strength; she needed as much strength as she could muster to drive the stake as deep as possible.

The stake penetrated his neck and he made the most _satisfying_ cry, before she continued her assault with absolute and beautiful fluidity.  Next, she pulled the stake out of his neck by making her right arm completely rigid and simply twisting her torso sharply.  It was the _Okinawa-te_ that had taught her the importance of circles.  The second man was now running, she would have even less time to prepare for his onslaught.

The twist was entirely strategic, and it was used to supply the momentum of her entire body into the left elbow strike that followed with her opposite arm, connecting directly with his check.  She winced at the pain this caused her.  Unfortunately, striking _any_ opponent always causes pain, unless you were kicking them, and the limited body hardening that she had done did not make her elbow feel immediately better.

She didn’t know if the second blow had even been necessary, but she had no way of knowing if she would actually hit something important with the puncture.  The first man crumpled to the ground with impressive force, and gurgled as he went.
    
    
        “One down.”

The second one wouldn’t be as easy, he’d now seen his friend fall and he had already closed the distance between them.  She could already see his frantic face turn to anger, “ _Joe_!”  She wished he hadn’t said his name.  She would have slept better at night if she had simply not known.   _Joe_ was a good, simple name.  He might have been a decent person before survival split him in two.

The second man didn’t lunge at her, trying to grab at her, as the first … as _Joe_ had.  The second man swung at her, full fisted.  It was a messy punch, and he had round housed it.  It should have been easy to block, but she also knew she wasn’t strong enough to block it fully right now.   Not in her weakened state and not in his newly enraged state.  He was supercharged with hatred and adrenaline.

She stepped back instead and his punch missed her nose by no more than an inch.  She didn’t want to retreat, but she could see no alternative.  The downed man was now blocking any chance that she might have had at side stepping.  She was three feet from the back wall now.
    
    
         “ _Shit_ … maybe the enclosed space was a bad idea –”

Now he swung again.  If he had been attempting to punch her directly, he would have probably succeeded, but this was another circular and sloppy lob.  She stepped back again and her head parried to the right, out of it’s reach again.
    
    
        “We can’t keep retreating!”

Mr. Parker had tried to drive that habit out of her … defending instead of attacking, but even now, she resorted to it if she felt overwhelmed.

She wouldn’t be able to reach him with her arms, but she needed to do something with her legs, damn it.  There was no room to attempt to redirect him with his own strikes as she had learned with _Aikido_.  So, she raised the stake in an attempt to distract him and then she shot a kick towards his nether region.  Whether or not it had connected, she couldn’t tell, but in the sudden shift of her weight, she had become dizzy, her own adrenaline was nearly gone and her fatigue was settling back in.
    
    
         _“GOD DAMN THAT **BLOOD SUCKER**.”_

He then lunged towards her with full force and pushed her back against the wall, his hands were on her throat, squeezing.  The force of the grip had caused her to drop the stake and reach for her throat, in an attempt to alleviate the pressure he was causing.  He was squeezing directly where the _Pale Man_ had bit, and it hurt fiercely.

But he was _close_ now … good … and … he was just a _human_ , with _normal_ reflexes.  She repeated the action that she had tried on the _Pale Man_.  The knee came up with such perfect force and landed where it had been intended.  As he doubled forward, his gripped waned, and it was the perfect motion for her to connect her head with his nose.  It had made a strange popping noise that actually surprised her.  He stepped back several feet and grabbed at his face.

The force that ricocheted in her head was a problem as she was now more dizzy than she had been previously, and her mind throbbed.
    
    
         “ _Oh balls_ … that was a bad idea.”

“ ** _You fucking cunt_** … ,“ he said as he spit the blood that was now pouring from his nose into his mouth, “I’m gonna gut you _alive_ now.” 

His words were particularly creepy, as she had assumed they were going to try and rape or kill her, but now she wasn’t so sure.  Would they have tried to _eat her_???  _NO NO NO_ , _NOT AGAIN_.  This revelation had made her particularly angry.
    
    
         “Anger is good … use it.”

He produced a knife from the back of his belt.
    
    
         “Huh … he really should have lead with that.  Especially after what he just saw us do to _Joe_.”

She knew he had still underestimated her, even after that first strike.  But that advantage was now utterly gone.  He had wanted to keep her alive, at least temporarily, but _now_ … _now_ he wanted blood.  Her blood was in such high demand these days, she mused.

 _Stop_.  Focus.  Round **two**.  Knife defense.   **Go**.

She needed to regain some ground, so she stepped forward before he could steal all the space with his second sloppy lunge.  Mr. Parker’s words chimed in, “Remember, never attack with a knife in an overhand circular motion, it’s the easiest to defend by redirect.”  And the big man attacked with his knife in an overhand circular motion.
    
    
         “Pleb.”

She stepped to do the motion that she had practiced over a hundred times, but something went wrong.  She wasn’t sure if it was her over confidence or her fatigue, but as she stepped to the outside of his arm and attempted to redirect the knife down and into his inner thigh, he read her step and changed his motion halfway through.  The back of his hand connected with her lower jaw and sent her reeling.  Unable to stop from completely spinning around, the front of her small body connected with the side of the house.
    
    
         “Fuck balls.”

Her back was to him, and then he sliced, cutting in an upward motion across her right shoulder blade.  She felt the cool steel slide into the skin of her back and an unintentional noise escaped her tired little body, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”   It was a mixture of a scream and a grunt and it was _loud_.

The shock of the act was what affected her more than the pain.  She was almost used to pain, particularly on _that_ scarred skin.  But, she had actually expected him to stab, instead of slice.  If he had stabbed her, the fight would have been over.  No, his intention was now to make her suffer.  She stumbled back and at least managed to turn her body around before falling to her knees.  She could see him preparing for the next cut, but something metal was under her grasp.
    
    
         “ _My_ Gnome!”

**React**.  She took the stake and swung it towards his calves.  He jumped back and this gave her time to fumble quickly up to her feet.  Her head swam, her jaw ached.

She now stood facing him, her back mere inches away from that damn wall again.  They each had a weapon but and his weapon was far superior to hers.

Focus.  Round **three**.  Knife defense.   **Go**.

At least … she had been expecting a third round.  What she saw next confused and then shocked her.  Her vision was still blurred.  The anger in the man’s face turned to terror and he had started to make a noise she could only decipher as half whimper and half cry, but all terror.  Then it melted away in an expression of … _well_ … nothingness.  Then, she noticed the blade begin to protrude from his chest, slowly.  It retreated almost instantly when it had finished its path thought his heart, back through his body and the man crumpled to the ground, much the same way _Joe_ had.

The _Pale Man_ stood before her now, his sword dripping with the second man’s blood.


	29. 5.6 - Blame

Fet would find it difficult later to describe exactly what they had seen when he rounded the side of that corner house’s backyard.  He had laughed when he told the tale to Dutch and Ephraim, but when they hadn’t grasped the immediate humor, he ended the story with a trivial, “ _Ah man, I guess you just had to be there._ ”

It was ambitious for them to even attempt to keep up with Quinlan, but not impossible as he had stopped at nearly every intersection, albeit briefly, before proceeding.  Luckily it had been a straight line, so when they lost sight of him near the end, they just continued in the same fashion as before.  It was her scream that finally drew them to where he’d disappeared.  When they followed him into that backyard and rounded the corner, what they saw seemed almost comical and Fet had nearly choked, laughing while trying to catch his breath at the same time.

Quinlan stood, his sword drawn, now dripping with blood, facing the woman, who was pointing the stake end of a … _yard gnome_ … at him. Her eyes were wide and impressively menacing.

Quinlan took a step towards her, stepping over the body that now laid on the ground before him and she reacted by taking a step back and pointing both the stake and the index finger of her free hand directly at him.  Her eyes widened even more and her body language was succinctly clear: “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Fet’s first assumption was that Q had killed both the bodies he saw, but he was quick to note that the gnome stake was covered in its own human blood.  Neither had actually said a word yet.

Due to her stature and even with the blood dripping from the stake’s pointy end, she was simply more _adorable_ than menacing.  The thought was short lived, as Fet was sure that was exactly what at least one of the men, now dead on the ground, had likely thought as well.  And honey badgers were adorable too, right?  Yeah, right up until you realize they are a god damn _honey badger_.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan heard her scream and moved quickly, but he was still at the street when he heard her hit the ground.  He was _not_ pleased and he had impaled the man _very_ slowly.  It had been intentionally and excruciatingly cruel.  He could have just snapped his spine.  Instead, he had grabbed the man by his neck from behind, preventing him from moving or turning, and had slowly pushed the blade into his back and up through his heart.   _Utterly savage._

He had attempted an innocent step towards her, but he had not intended it to seem aggressive.  Her coat was thrown over his left shoulder and he had planned on offering it to her; she was wet and cold, he could feel the shiver at her core.  His step was ill planned as he was still wielding his sword in his right hand and this looked threatening.  She reacted by threatening him with her peculiar weapon and pointing a finger at him.

When Fet and Gus had approached from behind, and she shifted her attention partially away from him and to the mountainous man, but only momentarily.

Gus reacted first, “Whoa whoa whoa,” his hands going up in a surrendering fashion, “Hey, it’s aight.  Everything’s cool.  We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

Quinlan didn’t think she would be able to do much damage to him, not with the _little elf_ she was waving at him, at least.   He was also making an assumption, and with her, he knew that assumptions were dangerous.  She’d already killed a man before he arrived with that peculiar little statue weapon.  He was somewhat disappointed he hadn’t witnessed it now.

He was irritated that he had not been able to arrive in time, and she was already wounded.  He could already smell the blood that trickled down her back and he knew the strigoi would be able to smell it too. They would be relentlessly drawn to it.

But they needed to get back as soon as possible, there wasn’t but 20 minutes of daylight left now.  He considered just disarming her briefly, but he also knew that further aggression was not going to help in diffusing the situation.  Regardless if he _might_ have just saved her life, she was still not pleased to see him.  So, he retreated, giving her full view of the two human men who stood directly behind him now.

She shifted a bit and as her eyes fell on Gus, he heard her heart increase its beat slightly, her face blushed with an almost unnoticeable hint of color; the humans did not detect this, but he could read it easily; there was a bit of attraction as she looked him up and down for a moment, before shifting her attention back to Quinlan fully, raising the stake further and furrowing her brow to look as menacing as was possible.

His patience immediately retreated and he was now annoyed.  He told himself it was due to the sun being dangerously low and they were _meandering;_ his sudden incensement was _surely_ because this was taking too long.

So, he acted almost rashly, remembering what Gus had mentioned back at the house, he would indeed take her back “ _kicking and screaming_ ” if necessary.  

He stepped forward again, but this time in a motion to grab her free hand and her reaction was beautifully violent in response.  She stabbed the stake towards his movement, pulling her hand, which had still been pointing at him with the index finger, out of his reach entirely.

Her voice was utter rage now and her dragonfly eyes locked onto the dhampir’s.

**“DON’T.”**

Quinlan would remember this particular instant with amazing clarity.  It would be the last time she looked directly into his eyes for _some time_.

Gus was now between them, his hands remained up in a non threatening manner.  Her posture was still defensive and she moved the direction of her makeshift weapon towards him now.  Fet simply stood still, as Gus had taken the reigns of negotiation.

Gus smiled, and his smile was nice, almost too perfect.  Quinlan saw just a hint of relaxation occur in her arms, one that the humans wouldn’t have perceived.  He held back the rattle that tried to escape.  There was no time to loiter further.

“It’s OK.  It really is.  We ain’t gonna hurt ya, I promise.”  She didn’t know him and her face scrunched up into a ball of furious thought.  Quinlan, of course, had seen that expression many times the night before; she was going over all of her options.

 

* * *

 

She knew it was late now, even with it being overcast, the sky was getting darker.

The overly handsome man had explained quite a deal to her, and she was absorbing it all quickly.  He was rushed and she knew why.  He promised that she could leave the following morning, but right now … at this very instant … she needed to come back with them.  It wasn’t safe.  He smiled.

Now the dialog began, as it always did, but something uncommon happened.  Both sides of her voice spoke in unison, in _agreement_.  Her conversation was almost Gollum like and the analogy made her shiver.  She would need to stop this … _eventually_.
    
    
        “We won’t survive the night on our own.”
    
        “Not now that we are bleeding, no.”
    
        “That’s his fault.”
    
        “It doesn’t matter who’s fault it is.  It’s our fault for saving him.  That was _Yesterday_.  Focus on _Tomorrow_.”
    
        “Ok.  If the _Pale Man_ wanted us dead, then he would have killed us at the factory.”
    
        “Unless he wants something from us.”

A thought gripped her suddenly and forcefully.  She hadn’t even considered it til now.  Did _he_ know?  Is that why she was still alive?  Did he know _why_ they had taken her??  Shit.

She had asked that _Shiny Man_ many times … “why?” and he had never really answered, not in any meaningful or understandable way.  Did did this _Quinlan_ know _why_ they had taken her?  In an instant, half of her wanted to run, but the other half considered the possibility of having answered questions.

She glared at Quinlan at this point in her thought process.  The Hispanic man saw the shift of her gaze and turned to him, pointing to her coat on his shoulder and nodded his head towards the backyard.  Quinlan complied and handed the pretty man her coat and stepped back and out of her view.

He said his name was Gus and the mountain was Vasily.  Vasily had a nice smile too.  She liked him instantly.  And, as if on perfect cue, yet again, a noise sounded from within the home.  The inhabitants were awaking.  Discussion time was over.

She said nothing but quickly snatched the coat from Gus’ offering hand and covered her wet and cold self, keeping the wound on her back from their view.  It had started to throb now.  As they stepped over the second dead man, she knelt and took the knife from his grip.

Wiping the blade clean on his jacket arm, she followed the pretty man into the backyard.  Holding the stake in her left hand and the knife in her right, she conceded to accompanying them back.  At least if they tried anything, she was now properly armed.

At that moment, Fet spied something familiar on the ground before he followed her out of the side yard.  He knelt to pick it up out of the mud, “Hey … is dis da _professor’s_ hat???  … _uh-oh_.”


	30. Interlude 2 - Dragonfly Eyes

##  Interlude 2 - Dragonfly Eyes 

####  _The Roman Countryside_

The sun had just started its meandering stroll up and over the mountains, when Quintus had stopped to let his horse rest and drink from the water of the pond.  There was a small stream that pushed water through it on either side, but the pond itself was quite still.  Not a breeze existed to disrupt the calmness.  Flowers lined its edges and lilies floated along it.  All manner of bugs were dancing about its life giving abundance, both above and beneath its surface.  They danced with each other and they danced around Quintus, in beautiful harmony.

He sat on the ground and began to soak it all in.  Humans might have found deterrence in the mosquitoes that buzzed around, but Quintus did not.  They were not attracted to him and he had felt an almost kinship towards them; they both had to live from the blood of others.  It was this thought that had begun the peace which had started to overwhelm him.

As he looked around, he suddenly realized it wasn’t just the mosquitoes that he felt a kinship for, but everything in this place was singing to him.  It was humming a song of life, a song of acceptance.  For the first time in his entire life, he felt that he actually belonged in _this_ world, in _this_ place.  And the weight of the love that this world had for him had suddenly come crashing down upon him at that very instant.  He mused that _[Terra](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terra_\(mythology\))_ herself was smiling directly upon him.

Quintus pulled something from the satchel that clung to his belt and he moved the locket around in his bare fingers, tracing the grooves of the figures on it.   _Him_ and _her_.  He was pleased with its quality and he had thought himself very clever when he had commissioned it in secret the weeks before during the spring harvest festival.  He had sneaked away to the engraver and had pointed her out as she walked by.

It was perfect and beautiful, just like _she_.  He had wished to pick it up yesterday so that he could surprise her this morning with it when she had just woke, but it had not been ready yet, as had been promised.  So instead he had woken before her, and had stolen away in the very early morning while it was still night to retrieve it as early as possible.

Quintus was pleased with his choice of gift.  And even though this day meant she was a year older, he didn’t care.  He wished to celebrate the act of her birth, even if it meant that she aged.  _Every_ moment was precious.

As he traced the outlines again, he realized that he had been utterly distracted to what had approached.  He jumped, but only very slightly, as the stag came through the brush on the opposite side of the large pond and stopped to gaze on the half-breed.

The animal was magnificent in all respects; a perfect specimen.  He hesitated at Quintus’ slight movement, but continued to the edge of the water and bowed to drink.

To other men, this would have simply been an excellent opportunity for a night’s dinner, but to the pale gladiator, this was something more _profound_.  This was something distinctly _sacred_.  This was something powerfully _holy_.

For the entirety of his life, Quintus Sertorius had almost no use for religion … _almost_.  Over the entirety of his life, he had only prayed to a single deity; he had only called for help from a singular god … or rather _goddess_.  This fact, even the [history books](https://www.britannica.com/biography/Quintus-Sertorius) have recorded.  Initially he had been taught to pray at _Ancharia’s_ instruction and later for the strength that he was convinced the goddess was affording him.

He had prayed to _The Huntress_.  He had prayed to Diana.

And the stag that now stood before him, unafraid and undaunted, was her emissary.  He thought for a moment that it wasn’t Terra that was smiling at him, but it must have been Diana.

He really wasn’t that far from the truth.  But it was _something_ more powerful than a simple deity that was smiling at him now; it was something that could exact its will on even the gods themselves: that _invisible force_ ; it was proud of him, one of its _most cherished_ children.

And Quintus smiled back.  For the very first time in his entire life, he felt pride in himself, instead of detest.  He felt a sense of belonging, instead of exclusion.  It was a feeling that was completely intangible and it rolled over him in a sweet blanket of serenity.

 _This_ was the first moment that Quintus felt pure, true and unadulterated **_happiness_**.

It was an emotional state that he would soon cage in a cell that would remain undisturbed for thousands of years.  Until the dragonfly eyes would rattle its hinges.  He would accuse _this_ feeling for what happened next even though the blame rested elsewhere, on _something_ else entirely.

His smile had not yet faded as he gazed on the beast, and at that moment, the slightest of breezes picked up and rolled over his body, pushing a small cloud of seeds and dandelion whispers across his face.

A dragonfly danced in its embrace and took refuge from its force on the locket that Quintus had been holding, open handed in his palm.  It was large and it sat squarely on the center of the small sculpture, covering the profiles underneath entirely.  The wind ceased.

His first reaction would have been to flick it away, but everything was so perfect at that moment, that he remained still and he simply took in its majesty.  Its wings were lined in a beautiful teal color, and the center was a deep green, with flecks of rich amber near its base.

Quintus reached out and touched the delicate wing, expecting it to fly away at once.  It did not.  It was not afraid of him, and his feeling of acceptance hit a climax.  But the dragonfly eventually moved along, and he watched it glide off in the direction of downstream.

_He immediately longed for it to return._

This moment was short lived, as a noise sounded in the distance.  The stag was immediately gone and Quintus looked up.  He knew what was in the direction from which the noise had come and he was gone in mere seconds, leaving his horse behind.  It would only have slowed him down.

“ _ **Oh gods**_ ”, he said to himself as he thundered in the direction of his farm.

And, the _invisible hand_ no longer smiled.

For _it_ knew his life would need to be hard.   _It_ knew that he would have to be _hardened_ to survive what would eventually come.   _It_ knew what would need to happen.

 _It_ had moved its little chess pieces to prevent the sculptor from finishing it the night before, to ensure Quintus was not home in the early hours of _**THIS**_ morning.

 _It_ knew _it_ had to take away what he held most dear.  He could not be _their_ savior today.

And, for what _it_ knew _it_ had already done to Quintus that day **…**

 **Fate** wept.


	31. 6.1 - Eventuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Author:
> 
> I hope this chapter, as a whole, isn’t too boring. As much as I’d like to get back to writing the action/other scenes, I really need to work on character development and sprinkling the plot points about. I hope you stick with me!!!
> 
> ༺‿༻

Ephraim was shocked when they had actually returned with the woman in tow.  The shock faded fast as things rarely shocked him anymore, especially where the Born was concerned. So he just continued to drink instead.  She was shorter than he had thought.  Now that she was standing upright that is.

Dutch was curious, as always, and a little embarrassed at having let her escape in the first place.  She sprang forth first and offered a hand to the woman, “Hi!  I’m Dutch.”

Dawn stared at the hand for a moment, but as hesitation wasn’t a sign of good faith, she fumbled the knife to the same hand that held the gnome and met her grip and shook it, but shook it hard.  The strength from the small hand had shocked Dutch just a bit and she pulled her back, “Ooh!  Right then.  Nice to meet you … and your … _gnome_.  Is that _blood_???”  Dawn said nothing in return, but she stepped past the tall woman and started to take in her surroundings.  She was examining everything now.  

Gus offered up some much needed context, “Everybody this is _Dawn_ ,” he remembered her name from Quinlan’s recanting the previous night, “Dawn’s gonna stay the night with us.  If she wants to leave in the morning, she’s more than welcome?”  Gus looked at her for confirmation, and she nodded which Gus countered with a smile.  His smile made her nervous again, so she turned away and continued her exploration.

Gus continued, pointing at everyone in turn, “You met Dutch, that’s Dr. Goodweather–” Ephraim interrupted, “Uuuuh … just, Eph, please.”  Gus continued again, “The pawnbroker … I mean Setrakian … Abe.”  At this, Abraham increased his already existent frown.  He hated the shortened name that Gus had started to call him, but he didn’t bother correcting him, either.  “And you know Fet and I’m Gus of course” that smile again.  He paused for a moment and then added, pointing to the figure standing characteristically still near the door, “Oh, and, you already know Mr. Quinlan, right?”  She didn’t turn to face him, she simply ignored the unnecessary introduction entirely.

Abraham had stood in order to greet the girl, but immediately saw his hat in Fet’s hands, “Mr. Fet, Is that my **_HAT_**??”  He pulled it out of the Ukrainian grip and immediately started to brush the mud off.  Dawn could easily read his obvious attachment to said hat and then she spoke, for the first time, since entering the building.

“ _Sorry_.”

She offered a small shrug and a weak smile but it was met with angry eyebrows and he took his hat with him back to his desk.  He had decided against needing an introduction afterall and he huffed something mean as he sat on the chair.  “Great, another mouth to feed.”  The professor was not keen on bringing yet another person into their little merry band of misfits, mostly due to the frustration that he felt when they lost one.  He was still not over the loss of the last one.  His attachment to Dr. Martinez, as much as he hated to admit it, had been quite profound.

The shrug/smile combination was one that Quinlan was already familiar; he recalled when he had expressed exasperation at the amount of Duct Tape surrounding his mouth, she had offered him the same non-apology.  Other than the single word threat that she had lobbed at the dhampir earlier, that was the first time Gus and Fet had heard her speak since.

Dawn slowly moved around, making sure to keep the Born in her peripheral vision.  She finally had time to take in her surroundings.  Earlier she had been in far too much of a rush to really notice anything beyond finding the door itself.  It was a residential home, but it was large and she could see a staircase that wound up to a second floor just passed the room they were currently inhabiting.  They were all in the immediate living area and it was an open floor plan.  The kitchen was large and had a shiny flat black granite island down the center of it.  The cabinetry was a dark cherry; it was nice and newish.  The floor was all tiled with masonry set.  She could tell it had likely been an expensive home.

The family room itself had a large sectional couch at its center, likely giving enough room for all of their merry band to sit at once, but she doubted that had ever happened.  Eph was strewn about it, greedily pouring his drink into a glass on the coffee table that occupied the space directly in front of it.

The whole of dining area had been confiscated by the old man.  The large rectangular wooden dining table was flanked on both sides by large benches and two chairs on either end.  Papers were strewn about its surface and as she wandered over to peruse, the old man shot her a perturbed look and pulled some papers over something shiny on the table; it had been silver.  A sinister chill ran down her spine and while his reaction to her investigative eyes was curious, the look itself told her to mind her own busy, so she moved on.

Dutch had put together a makeshift work area to the right of the couch and she’d filled the fold up table with three monitors, and Dawn could make out two laptops in use, a MacBook Pro and an Asus that was running Linux.  She couldn’t tell the distribution of the operating system from her angle, but the young woman was running Gnome on it, of all things.  This made Dawn smile, considering she was still brandishing the stake.  All monitors were riddled with a chaos of terminal windows and various familiar moving line graphs.

There was a massive mobile dry erase board that occupied the space next to the table and it was covered in black scribblings.  Formulas and numbers and things that looked important, coupled with lots of arrows and various things had been circled.  She noticed a couple of smiling and frowning faces had been drawn along certain paths and while others had been crossed out entirely.  She wondered what the thin woman could be up to again, but dismissed it and did not look at the contents further.

     “I already said … we hate _mysteries_.  We can’t stay.  Don’t bother them.”

Eph could read the uncomfortableness that the woman’s exploration and quietness was invoking and he did what he normally did in those situations, “Well … welcome.”  He stood and slurred a question to her, “you drink?”  He had already poured it and was waving his glass towards her, in an offering way.

     “Don’t do that.  We need to be at 100%” she thought.

But she knew she wasn’t even close to 100%, even if she was completely sober.  Everything hurt, especially her back and head.  The last drink she’d had was when she polished off that whiskey she’d found stashed in the manager’s locked desk drawer on the second floor of building 2 last month.  Ugh, she _hated_ whiskey, but she had welcomed the _numb_ that it offered.

“Fuck it, if we are gonna die, I don’t wanna die sober” her mind conceded.

She looked at the stake in her left hand carefully before setting it on the corner of Dutch’s computer station, but she kept the knife in her right.  She figured the knife was more menacing than the fairie.  Then she walked over and took the glass from Ephraim.  She hated hard alcohol, but she downed it in one swig.  At this, he was extremely pleased and a magnificent smile spread across his tipsy face, “ **Yeeeaaah**!!! … I’m liking you already!”

She shuddered as it went down and then she spoke again, “Warm vodka? … “ another shudder, “you _must_ be desperate”  and handed the now empty glass back to the bald man.

“ _Oh damn_ … she’s got your number already, Doc!” Fet burst out in laughter, but followed it up with a mumble about checking the doors and meandered off past the kitchen.  He didn’t like to be around Dutch and Ephraim at the same time.

Dawn peered down the way, trying to see where he went, but obviously the house had more in it than just this large area.  She would explore that area later she decided and continued her exploration around the current space.  She could see the windows were covered, preventing light from coming in as well as escaping.  She wasn’t sure how secure it was, but they seemed to be at ease.  She knew little would probably get passed the Pale Man in any case.  It made her extremely uncomfortable to even consider putting her immediate safety in his hands though.

Gus began to quietly head the same direction that Fet had shuffled off in and Dutch called out after him, “Still working on your secret project, love??”  She grinned wildly again and Gus answered with his classic smile, “No worries _Chica_ , I’ll show you guys soon.  Be in the garage.”  And then he was gone.

Eph excitedly poured her another glass, that was also downed with the same vigor.

Up to this point, Quinlan had been patient, allowing her to get acclimated, but he was getting antsy now.  He could wait for a lull in their incessant conversation and drinking, or he could simply interrupt.  He chose the latter.

“Doctor, it would probably be best if you examined her wound.”  Quinlan wouldn’t admit he was mildly concerned, but clung to the excuse that the smell was driving him a little mad at the moment.  It wasn’t entirely a lie, fresh blood had that effect on strigoi after all and the smell reminded him of its odd taste.  He had found it quite unpleasant at first, but now a part of him was wishing to revisit that assessment.

At the mention of this, her face flushed with color and she shot his direction the dirtiest look that she could possibly muster, being careful not to look into his face.  She was spectacularly good at showing contempt.

Ephraim stopped pouring the third drink he was preparing for her and looked up, “What wound?” and he started to look her up and down, “You hurt?”

Dawn’s eyes grew wide, “NO, NO … I’m not.  I’m _fine_.”

This revelation confused the doctor immediately, “Wait, you were only gone for like an hour … how did you get wounded?”  And Eph could see Dutch give a quick and silent point to the stake end of the gnome that now graced her workspace and he finally noticed the blood that covered it, “ _Wait … did someone get staked??  Who got staked??_ ”

Dawn blushed intensely now, “ _Joe_.”  Mentioning the name made her heart jump and the shame could not be hidden from her face.

Eph blinked at the response … “Who the fuck is _Joe_??” and Dawn offered her standard partial shrug, but this time the smile did not accompany it.

Quinlan stepped forward now and pushed the subject again.  He waved a hand towards her, instructing the bald man to proceed.  “Doctor, _please_.”

Ephraim was already starting to stand at that point, and he queried the woman, “Are you sure? Cause, I can take a look.  It’s kinda what I do.  I’m pretty good at it.”  He was attempting to be adorable; Dutch was not pleased.

“No no, I’m fine” and she backed up with such vigor to get away from the curious doctor that she knocked into the table of the programmer behind her.  She pulled her jacket closed tightly, “I’m fine.  It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

Again, the Born interjected, “I assure you, she _bleeds still_.”

She shot his direction another vicious look.  Ephraim had experience dealing with difficult patients, so he approached with caution, “Ok then, let me just take a quick look, ok?  You don’t want it to get infected, right?”

Dawn stood poised to resist any exploration of her back at all.  But Quinlan expertly ended the debate with an undeniable counter, “The bleeding _must_ be stopped.  The smell might attract _undesirable_ attention.”  He knew this was unlikely within the house, but he also knew it was a truth, because it was attracting _his_ attention and she most undoubtedly found that _undesirable_.

Her eyes floated down to the ground and she knew she would not be able to argue with that logic.  If it might put the entire group in danger, then there was simply no way that they would allow her to continue with refusal.

The reluctance confused both the Doctor and the Born.  Ephraim offered her the seat from which he had just stood, and Dawn slowly removed her oversized jacket.  She sat, ensuring that she was facing everyone who was actually paying attention at that point.  The old man had already stopping caring about the happenings in the rest of the room.  Noting that her positioning was strategic, Quinlan didn’t mind as it was probably for the best if he did not see the blood.

Her eyes locked with Ephraim’s and he wouldn’t fully comprehend what she was trying to convey until he lifted the shirt to expose the wound on her right shoulder blade.  The pupils had been pleading for _discretion_.  He understood in an instant but he couldn’t hide the expression change that was already overcoming on his face.  His eyes fell on her scars and the drunken cheer now gone entirely.

Quinlan immediately attempted to move to obtain a viewpoint for a glimpse of what had affected the Doctor so ultimately.  Dutch stood to follow.  But their sudden movements were obvious and Dawn pulled the shirt out of the doctor’s grasp and down immediately, locking eyes with Ephraim as she turned.  He was still a doctor, for all intents and purposes, and he understood the need for discretion.  That was her right.  And he saw so much shame in her face at that moment.

“I think you are gonna need stitches for that” and then he offered up a good excuse, “But I need a better look, I’m gonna need you to take your shirt off, ok?  Let’s go somewhere more … _private_?”

She nodded and stood as Ephraim led her away from the shared area.

And Dutch said what everyone present had been thinking, “What the _hell_ was that about?”

  



	32. 6.2 - Eventuality

Her shirt was removed and no words were spoken yet.  She shielded her chest in a defensive manner, even though her curves were covered by the undergarment still.  At first, Ephraim merely marveled at the marks he saw.  They were not his first, he’d been around the world and he’d seen the Born.  He had seen the scars of a whipping before but this was not something you would normally have seen from an American.  He could tell they were relatively new and the healing had been messy; the cuts had not been stitched as they should have been.  Ephraim counted ten lash marks before he stopped; there were at least double that amount.

He palpated the area around the new wound and she flinched slightly.  Part of the cut was under the bra, which was also partially rent.

“I’m gonna need to unhook it, k?”  She nodded, offering no words in return.

Ephraim prodded only once, “Do you wanna talk about _it_?”

His query was met with silence.  He unleashed the clasp and began to clean the wound.

Her mind swam with memories now.  Memories that she had been all too successful at burying deep in her mind until now.  As the doctor touched her back, they flooded in, overwhelming her and she flinched again at his touch.

She remembered again asking the _Shiny Man_.

> “ _Why??  Why are you doing this?_ ”, and his response was always cryptic, always confusing, always the same.  He enjoyed her bafflement, “I am sorry.  We _need_ to hurt you, my dear … _he_ needs to _know_.”  She knew he was _not_ sorry.
> 
> “ _He_??  To know _what_??” she had pushed.  Prodded, but not begged.  She would not beg _them_.  She never begged _them_.
> 
> “My dear … To know that **_we know_**.”
> 
> And she would ready her stance, grasp her restraints tightly, and wait for the next, “ ** _my head is bloody … but unbowed_**.”

She pushed the memory aside, forcefully and focused back to the present.   _Yesterday_ is dead.  

“What is he?”

Ephraim needed no clarification of who she meant, “He’s a _hybrid_.  Half-human, half-strigoi, but all _muscle_.”  He chuckled at the last comment, hoping that it would alleviate the seriousness of the situation.  She didn’t return his laugh.  “He didn’t tell you that?”

“We didn’t really have a chance to talk much.”  

Ephraim didn’t want to push for further explanation.  He knew, just like Quinlan, she wasn’t going to be forthcoming with information.

“Stigroy?”

“Strigoi … Vampire.”

The _mindless_.  She found it strange to refer to them as vampires though, because they were simply empty husks, devoid of all inner driving of their own.  Well, save for hunger.  If anything, they reminded her more of living dead or an alien hive parasite of some kind.

“You know … He’s a good … uh … guy.”  Ephraim didn’t know what happened, but he knew what had happened wasn’t intentional.  “He _really_ is.  I’m serious.”  His effort was met with silence, but he continued.

“First time I saw him, I actually tried to shoot him” an uncomfortable laugh now, “yeah, that didn’t work out well for me.  But he’s saved our asses more times that I can count, and in the end, we all want the same thing.”

“And what is _that_?”

Ephraim was done with cleaning and he started the first stitch and he was surprised that she didn’t even move an inch.

“To end _this_.  To kill The Master.”

Curious, she thought, and prodded, “ _The Master_?”

“Yeah, the one who started all of this. The one behind all of _this_.”

She repeated his words in her head … _The one_ who started all of this.   _The one_ behind all of this.  Yes, indeed … _the one_.  “The Master” and _the one_ were the same.

Her mind rumbled:

>     “They know of _it_.”
> 
>      “Of course they do, the Pale Man knew the _Shiny Man_ , remember??”
> 
>      “Yes, but up to this point, that would have just been a wild a conjecture.”
> 
>      “One that is obviously true.”

She laughed now, “And you think _you_ can stop _it_?”

Ephraim picked up a hint of familiarity in her use of _it_ but shrugged it off, “We are gonna try.  With Quinlan’s help, we might actually have a chance.”

The second stitch was started now.  The doctor liked to talk, she could tell, and the alcohol probably didn’t help much.  He continued to rattle away as he pulled the sutures through her scarred flesh.

“The Master has taken things from all of us.”  She could hear the pain in his voice now, one that he had been trying to hide with humor.

“But, why would _he_ help _you_?”

Ephraim repeated, “The Master has taken things from **_all_** of us.”

The third stitch was started, “So, here’s the thing.  I don’t know what happened and I’m not asking what happened, but I do know he _regrets_ whatever it was.  He didn’t have to bring you back here.  If he was such a bad guy, he could have just let you die.”  Ephraim wasn’t sure what the point of his pushing was for, she would be gone in the morning and she made no response.  She’d already considered these thoughts.

Ephraim offered up something that he thought was particularly useful for her to know, “You aren’t gonna turn either.  He’s not like them, he actually can’t do _that._ ”

She simply just shrugged at this, “I figured.”   _This didn’t concern her …_

“How did you _figure_??”

“I’ve seen people turn.  If it was gonna happen, it woulda happened last night?”

“Fair enough.”  Ephraim had seen the first ones off the plane turn slowly, but she was right.  Everyone that he’d seen turn lately changed in a matter of hours.

The fourth stitch began and Ephraim hated silence, so he continued with the doctorly small talk … “So, what did you do for a living before all _this shit_?”

She laughed now, “I was between jobs.” She considered keeping it all to herself, but she was relaxing and she wondered if that was the vodka’s fault, “I was in New York for a job interview.  Bad timing.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Last name?”

“ _Nope_.  Not anymore, at least.”  He smiled at this response and didn’t push.  Getting information from her was similar to getting information out of the Born.

“Where are you _from_?”

“Someplace NOT so cold.”  Ephraim loved that it was so unspecific, her attachment to her own mystery was fabulous.

“Ok, so before being _between_ jobs, what did you do?”  The fifth stitch was started.  He was passed the halfway at this point.

“Before _this_ … I was pretty _boring_.”  That was only half a lie, the act of what she had done was boring, but the who she did it for was not.  It was the end of the world, but she felt she was still required a bit of secrecy surrounding that aspect of her past.  It had been programmed into her psyche quite well.  And … of course …that was yesterday and that was not _Dawn_.

“And what do _boring_ people do?”  Ephraim was now beyond curious at what the little fighter might have been, especially due to her reluctance in disclosing more.

“Mostly just math.”

Ephraim couldn’t hold back his laughter at this point, “Wow … ok … well … are _all_ mathematicians as handy with _yard gnomes_?”

And he was finally successful and she laughed, for the first time in months.  The movement of her body was unexpected and the needle slipped unintentionally deep, which ended the laugh in its tracks and provoked an “Ahhhh!” from her.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

He couldn’t see it, but she was still smiling, “Mostly … all of us … yes.  It’s part of the curriculum.”  She didn’t see a point in telling him about her training, it’s best that she keep that to herself.  As nice as he was, she wasn’t a fool and it would take more than free booze for her to trust him in any way.

The sixth stitch was done, and he had started the final one.

“So how’d you get cut?”  Now, she raised her right hand in answer and waved the knife in the air a bit before bringing it back down and out of his view.

He nodded and finished the final stitch in silence.  Once he was done, he reclasped the hooks back together for her and helped her pull down the shirt.

Ephraim had been more hesitant at breaching the next subject, but he continued anyways.

“I’m kinda gonna make a suggestion that I **_REALLY_** hope you don’t offended by.”

The apprehension on Dawn’s face was impossible to hide and she waited for the bald man to finish, “How about a _shower_?”

And for the first time since he’d met her, Dr. Goodweather saw a real smile cover her square little face.  The other smiles had been weak and almost forced, even the small laugh had been leashed and restrained.  But now he saw something on her face that was quite genuine and she nodded; it was an eager nod.
    
    
         “Oh thank Zeus himself” she purred in her mind.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim returned to the living area after dropping the stray off at the shower.  He immediately went for his glass and eagerly poured.  His face wasn’t at all happy and he wondered to himself what she might have gone through.  They’d all been through so much, but nothing like what he’d seen on her tortured skin.

Quinlan simply listened from his new position at the table with the old man.  Dutch was impatient, “Hey … What the _hell_ was that about??  Lets go someplace private so I can take your shirt off???”

Ephraim downed another glass before he offered any kind of explanation, “That was … hmm“ he poured another glass and simply held it.  He remembered _indiscretion_ , the very same indiscretion that he had afforded Quinlan when Dutch had blasted him with questions about the half-breed anatomy as well.

Quinlan remained silent, and simply stared curiously back towards the direction of the ground floor bathroom where the Doctor had left her.  He wanted to know, but he knew the Doctor was obviously not open to sharing now.

“Lets just say … “ Ephraim finally spoke, “ … this _siege_ has been _harder_ on _some_ than _others_.”


	33. 6.3 - Eventuality

The shower was cold but she didn’t care.  Eph had warned her that they had no gas, so it would be _cold_ and she _really_ didn’t care.  He had warned her that they were sharing toothbrushes, and she didn’t care either.  Things had changed at _the end_ ; things that were unacceptable before were simply just life now.

For the first time in a while, she stared at herself in the mirror.  Her hair was no longer greasy and its real underlying color was now apparent, as she savagely pulled the little plastic comb through her dark ash blonde colored tangles.  She had been born ridiculously blonde, which was funny considering her range of heritage.  But it had progressed darker and darker when she hit five years old and now was teetering on the cusp of being brown instead of blonde.  

Without a proper haircut, it had gotten longer than she liked, now halfway between her shoulders and the middle of her back.  It did make it easy to pull back though, so she returned it to its previous position, tied back in place at the base of her skull.  She always tied it low so that it wasn’t easy to grab.  Having long hair was problematic in a fight.

She had avoided looking at herself.  Even as she had passed those large mirrors in the locker room, she had stopped looking at herself.  But now, she gazed on her face and took note of something new: there were sneaky single streaks of gray hair peeking through.  Over the course of the last four months, she felt like she had aged a decade.  As she gazed on her visage now, that was the only difference; she looked nearly the exact same, even though she knew this was the first time she was looking at _Dawn_.
    
    
         “It’s nice here.”
    
         “Don’t even go there.  We aren’t staying.”
    
         “They might let us stay.”

She had liked everyone she had met so far, save for the bloodsucker, but she honestly wasn’t sure she hated him entirely.  If he had wanted her dead, she knew she would be.  She even liked the grumpy old man.
    
    
        “Don’t even go there.  We aren’t staying.”
    
        “How is it any different than when we wanted to ask the _Pale Man_ for help?  We were _considering_ it.”
    
        “We were considering _HIS_ help, which I’m not sure we can trust anymore.  You saw what he did when he thought he was cornered.  He would kill any of them to save _himself_.”
    
        “Yeah … but …”
    
        “We had considered _his_ help but not theirs.  You remember what happened when we thought we were safe before.   _The one_ found us; _the one_ killed them all.”

She did not like the name that Ephraim had given him: The Master.  No, not at all.  That afforded him too much power.  He might have been Master over the _mindless_ … erm … _strigoi_ , but she would not give him that power.
    
    
       “I know.”
    
       “ _Their_ blood is on our hands. _It_ even told us as much.”
    
       “ _I know_.”
    
       “You like them … then the best thing that you can do for _them_ is _leave_.”
    
       “They think they can beat _it_.  We might be able to help.”
    
         “What can we do?  We would just be in their way.  Let them wage their own war and let their casualties fall on their own conscience.  We don’t need anymore weight than we already bear.”

When she came out of the bathroom, she could hear them arguing and it seemed they had been arguing for some time.  The discussion wasn’t loud, in fact, it seemed like they were trying to keep the voices quiet.  And if she hadn’t been sharpening her senses over the last months, she wouldn’t have heard most of it.  Before re-entering the large living area, she paused at the corner and listened.

 

* * *

 

“Professor, I think your suspicions are unfounded.”  Quinlan’s voice and tone were utterly devoid of emotion in their execution.  His demeanor was now back to normal for the first time since he had returned the previous night.  He was calm again.

It was the old man with which he conversed, “Don’t you find it suspicious that she just happened to be there when we went to locate a signal from the Master?”

Dutch interjected meekly, “We actually don’t know if the signal came fro–”

The old man continued, his annoyance obvious through his tone, “And she just _happened_ to help you and you just _happen_ to bring her back here, where the _Lumen_ is??”

“I do not think she is a _spy_ sent by the Master to infiltrate us, if _that_ is what you are implying.”

The old man was relentless, “And why aren’t _you_ suspicious?”  The old man’s eyebrow went up in an accusing fashion.

“You were not present.  I do not feel like the situation was fabricated to _gain my trust_.  If the Master had the opportunity to kill me, he would not hesitate.  He has learned better.”

Quinlan wasn’t exactly sure about that last statement coupled with the fact that they still had the Occido Lumen.  He wasn’t sure what the Master would chose over the other: his demise or the book.

“Well, I don’t trust her.  I don’t like the way she was eyeing the _Lumen_.  And I don’t trust the story you told us.  You are keeping _something_ from us.”

Quinlan considered telling the entire story at this point, but was sure that her knowledge of _Invictus_ would only further fuel the old man’s conspiracy theory, especially since that was the _Master_ ’s title for him, after all.

“She will be leaving in the morning and you will be able to rest easy.”  Quinlan was trying to appease the bearded man, but this only further fueled his frustration.

“Oh, she’ll just be gone in the morning?  Did we even think about that?  Off on her own, and what if she is eventually turned?  Then the Master will know _exactly_ where we are.  Did anyone consider that??”

No one had and the room fell silent.  Ephraim did what he does best and broke the silence, “What would you want us to do Professor?  Force her to stay here?  And _actually_ , aren’t you the one that just let her leave to begin _with_?”

Quinlan was immediate, “She is _not_ our prisoner.  And I am confident that she can take care of herself.  She has survived this long on her own.”  His assurance was a complete bluff but he had just noted her presence watching from the corner of the hallway and he turned to face that direction.  Abraham took note, huffed and the conversation was now over.

Since she had been outed, she slowly came into full view and approached the area of dispute.  She now donned a light blue, long sleeve button up shirt and a pair of giant sweat pants.  Dutch had raided the previous owner’s closet, but he had been a much bigger man than her tiny frame.  And just as the previous clothes, these clothes looked like they would swallow her alive.

She apprehensively approached the group that now stood in the kitchen where Quinlan had been laying a number of things out on the counter, next to her stick.  A possessive force now kicked inside of her and she grabbed the staff from the counter and shot another dirty look in the half-breed’s general direction.  Fet could no longer hold back his curiosity at the thing and asked simply, “What is dat thing? Did you _make_ it?”

“This … “ and she gave it a quick once over before continuing, verifying that it looked like it was still in good shape, “This is my Sun Stick,” and on the last word, she felt the switch that she had hidden under the Duct Tape on the staff halfway down its metal shaft.  With one flick, the room was filled with fabricated sunlight and she took particular joy in Quinlan’s response.  It was immediate and satisfying.  His hand went up to block his eyes and he took a dramatic step backwards and into the counter behind him.  He had expected the light, but not the extreme intensity of it.

“ _Holy crap_!” this now from Dutch and Fet’s smile was insanely large.

Dawn flicked it off to save whatever power remained.  Running the bulbs was costly, and the run time was less than a minute before the batteries within would need to be replaced.  However, she didn’t need to run it long before the mindless … erm … strigoi … would cook.

“Custom made mercury vapor UV self-ballasted bulbs” and on confirmation, Dutch gave Fet a soft strike with the back of her hand against the mountain’s shoulder, in a ‘ _see i told you so_ ’ movement.

Fet prodded, “Q said they manufactured those there?  How did you find dat place??”

“I have tortoises.”  The statement immediately made her sad and she corrected, “… _had_ tortoises.”

She’d always thought that adopting those shelled things had been a mistake.  African spurred thighed tortoises are the third largest in the world, but they don’t disclose that information at the pet store.  And as they got bigger and bigger, it had become an incredible burden.  But after the end, she knew that having those tortoises had contributed to saving her life.  Without their presence, she would have never known about the factory.  The _invisible force_ smiled when she had realized that little fact: having those tortoises had saved her life.  Indeed.

The explanation wasn’t exactly what he was looking for and his face scrunched up in mild confusion.  She added more to appease his curiosity, “I had put in a special order.  This company makes specialized bulbs for zoos themselves.  I was supposed to pick up my order after … “ a chill ran down her spine as she paused before she finished the sentence, “my interview …  It’s the only reason I knew where it was.”  Quinlan noted the minor hesitation, and he knew he was the only one that had picked up on it.   _Curious_.

“Do you think that you can point me back to the direction of the factory?  There are some things I … left behind.”  She knew he’d destroyed most of the bulbs, but some of them might still be intact.  She also knew there were items there that would be useful elsewhere that she needed to pick up.

Fet turned and stared at Quinlan, who was intently listening, but had shifted his stance, almost uncomfortably and returned to moving the items around on the counter that he had been fidgeting with.  When it was apparent that the dhampir wasn’t going to answer, Fet broke the terrible news, “There’s no reason to go back der  …”

Over the next weeks, Quinlan would eventually grow to expect her vicious looks, but he hadn’t gotten there quite yet and the look that she now lobbed in his direction after Fet finished his next sentence was _particularly_ vexing.

“Q … kinda … uh … _burned it down_.”


	34. 6.4 - Eventuality

Quinlan didn’t need to sleep as much as humans nor strigoi.  A few hours a night and he was good to go.  He could even go a few days without rest, but it would make him on edge … well, _grumpy_.  They had given him one of the rooms in the large house, but he usually spent most of his time in the living area downstairs, keeping guard and looking through the papers, over and over again.  It had gotten monotonous, but necessary.  The professor was still convinced that they were missing something.

Right now, he sat in his room, alone and waiting.  He was used to this, as it was, unfortunately, how he had spent most of his long life.  They had given her food and then the couch to sleep on, and he had left in order to not disturb, but he was biding his time now.  He needed to ask questions, and preferably when no one else was about.  If she was going to leave in the morning, then he didn’t have much time.  He had hoped to come back downstairs after everyone else was off to bed, and catch her before she had fallen asleep, but she fell asleep immediately and completely and quite surprisingly while everyone was still in the room and hours before everyone else would even leave the room.  Her fatigue outweighed her concern over them now.  She was so very, very tired.

When he heard her movement in the middle of the night, he had sneaked downstairs to see if she was awake, but found that she had merely moved her pillow and blanket to the floor in front of the door and she was already fast asleep again.  The makeshift sleeping area reminded him of that small concrete room; she had done the same there as well.  These were, no doubt, learned habits to keep herself alive.  She still held the knife firmly in her right hand, even while she slept.  This action was sad to him, but he left her there, asleep on the floor, and returned to his room.

Patience is not something the Born lacks.

 

* * *

 

She woke before everyone else; she was refreshed and she felt like herself again.  She’d always been a fast healer.  The clock on the stove told her that it was almost 5 am, but she didn’t know how accurate that was.  The windows were covered and it was difficult to tell if twilight had actually started yet.

She now explored more of the room, without prying eyes on her and with more eagerness.  She spent the most time exploring Dutch’s workstation.  Each monitor was playing the same screensaver, one that she was all too familiar with.

“ _Hell yeah_ , that’s old school.”

She had run that same exact one while she was in college; everyone wanted to find aliens back then.  She wondered why anyone would want to run [SETI](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/SETI@home) with the internet being fucked, but she thought she would probably like Dutch.  They might have even been kindred spirits before _the end_.

She had told herself to leave the whiteboard alone, but she knew she never followed instruction very well, even her own.  She looked over the scribbles intently and she knew exactly what they were as she perused them with clearer thought.

Familiarity washed over her like a cool breeze.  She _knew_ what Dutch was attempting to do, it was actually quite brilliant.  And, of course she _knew_.  She marveled at Dutch’s work thus far, but she could see the errors that the programmer had propagated throughout her formulas, the faults that the thin woman had been overlooking.  She reached for the dry erase marker before she attempted to halt herself entirely.
    
    
        “ _Come on_.  Stop.”
    
        “I’m just going to _fix_ a few things … “
    
        “What good will _that_ do?”
    
        “You said we couldn’t help them … at least I can do _this_.”
    
        “It’s a bad idea.   _Just leave it_.”

She did not heed her own warning and began to erase things here and there and augment others.  She had been so close, impressively so. The _thin_ woman was _smart_.  
    
    
        “Just this little nudge and maybe they can end this.  Just this little … “

She immediately halted her writing as she felt a shiver crawl its way down her spine and then back up again.  There were eyes on her now.  She wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but as she turned around, he was a mere four feet from her.

The _Pale Man_ stood perfectly still.  They were alone … _again_.

 ** _Finally_**.


	35. 6.5 - Eventuality

Quinlan could discern her unease easily, and he moved around her in a circular pattern, as to keep a distance and show no unintentional aggression.  He moved around the couch and took a seat on the far end.  He motioned an arm toward the other end of the L-shaped sectional, conveying a suggestion that she sit at its opposite side.  He wanted to parley.

He was pleased when she made absolutely no hesitation in compliance.  She still mistrusted him, that was clear enough, but she was not _afraid_ of him and he realized she had _never_ been.  She avoided his eyes, but he was alright with that, because he wished to avoid hers as well.  He had re-caged those _dragonfly_ thoughts and he was resigned to keep them there.

The very corner of his mouth curled up in the smallest of smiles as he noted he could no longer see the knife in her grip.  It was likely hidden somewhere on her body, within easy access no doubt.

He knew she wouldn’t be the first to speak and yet he waited before starting the much anticipated conversation.  He considered thanking her again for helping him; he considered apologizing again for his rash actions.  Both of these were in the past and he knew his words would be moot to her right now.  Simple words would not undo what had been broken.

“Mr. Fet and I have packed you a bag to take.”  He motioned to a backpack that sat next to the door.  They had packed it with the items that he had been sorting on the counter the night before.  “It has food, water, and some supplies that will be useful and … much to the Doctor’s dismay, a firearm with extra ammunition.”

The previous night, when Quinlan had requested Ephraim’s favorite firearm, the doctor protested much: 

> “Come on … NO way, that’s my favorite gun.”
> 
> “Yes, it is a _good_ weapon, Doctor.  We will find you another.”
> 
> “No, but that’s MY gun.”
> 
> “Doctor Goodweather, it has the least kick-back which pairs well with the largest caliber for which we have extra ammunition.  It is the only gun which I believe she will be able to handle with ease.”  The argument was over.  Ephraim would pout for the rest of the night.   _Children_.

Her eyes flashed to the bag and she gave a small nod and then finally spoke, “ _Alright_.  Thank you.”  Quinlan was surprised that the ‘thank you’ wasn’t filled with animosity at all.  This was _progress_.

“Why?” he started simply.

“Why _what_?” she countered.

“Why _aid_ me?”  His face was a steel trap, allowing no emotion to escape.  He was a master at determining deception and no one had ever helped Quinlan without reason, his _entire_ life.  He was a _monster_ after all.

She now fidgeted with her hands, rubbing them together fiercely and he watched this behavior as she shifted the movement from her hands to rubbing the inside of her right wrist.  He archived this as a possible tell to use in the future.

“You weren’t … _aren’t_ … like _them_.  You fought _them_.  I _watched_ you fight _them_.”

It wasn’t the whole true, he knew as he watched the nervous act continue with her hands, “So you decided I was deserving of your charity because you saw me fight?”  The nervousness continued and he almost felt compelled to walk over and attempt to stop it her hands.  She offered no words in return, so he continued to push, “Seems like a _foolish_ assessment for one who has survived so long.”

He hadn’t meant the statement to sound like a lecture, but it did.  And he was honestly concerned, for If she was going to leave and survive on her own, then she needed to be more _careful_.

“Yeah … thanks _Captain Obvious_.”  This terminology was not something with which he was familiar, but it was easy to decipher its meaning.

But she continued, attempting to answer his query, “I … _hoped_ … that I … “ her hesitations were easily discernible; she had no idea where she was going with the sentence that she had already started, but her finalization of it struck Quinlan with a brief wave of remorse, “I _hoped_.”  No one, save for _Ancharia_ , had ever equated him with unearned _hope_ before; he was a **_monster_**.

Her hands stopped their movement immediately and she looked vaguely in his direction, “But you are _right_.  I don’t intend to be _that **foolish** ever_ again.”  The inflection that she had given to his choice of words was painful in its execution and he knew that it was the _truth_.

The briefest of silences passed between them and he realized he would have to mention what he had done to her now.  As he opened his mouth to breech the subject, she expertly took control of the conversation.

“Why?” She borrowed his initial question.

“Why _what_?” he countered.

“Why did you even bring me back here?  What do _you_ want from me?”

And now he understood her easy compliance to the parley, she had been planning her own interrogation of his actions as well.  But there wasn’t an easy way to answer her question without asking his own first.

“You spoke words to me … while I … “ the memories of that instant flooded him now and his heart rate increased ever so slightly.  He held back the strigoi twitch that violently wanted to escape, “… _fed_.”  This word was spoken in a sneer which ended with the slightest hint of his rattle.  Quinlan took a second to compose himself, closing his eyes briefly, and continued  “Do you remember what you spoke?”

He could tell that she was considering how to answer carefully, “I know my words.”

“What prompted them?”

 

* * *

 

She could see something now, that she had missed this before, _those words_ … they meant something to _him_.  Possibly as much as they had meant to _the one_?  She remembered that hidden part of her mind telling her to speak _its name_ , but at the time she couldn’t recall it.  Now she recollected that dark voice again, and something concurrently clicked in her mind while she verbalized it.

“ ** _Invictus_**.”

His head slightly cocked to the right as the words escaped her mouth.  Yes, _this_ word meant _something_ to him.  He had pulled out of her after she spoke the words, she remembered that much.

Was _this_ the only reason that he didn’t kill her?  She hadn’t actually considered that until now.  Some part of her had thought he had spared her, out of some kind of morality, but it was now painfully clear that he had not.

“Yes.”  He waited.  His patience was unnerving and absolute.

“It’s a _poem_.”  She offered.

“Yes, _it is_.  Why did you speak it to _me_?”  He was prodding her, ever so gently.  His calmness was unflinching.

“It’s just what I do.”

“What you _do_?”

“When I get nervous.”  She knew poems.   _Lots of poems_ , and she would recite them all; she knew it was an odd thing to do, but it’s simply what she did.  The monotony of those memorized verses would calm her mind when it was firing too fast for her to function properly.

 

* * *

 

“And what is it that you do _exactly_?”  Quinlan was confused by the entire response chain that was being exchanged, but what happened next, he would remember _always_.  Her dragonfly eyes closed tightly, and she paused ever so timidly.  With her eyes still shut, she began quietly at first, and more confidently as the words progressed.

“Out of the _night_ that covers me,  Black as the _pit_ from pole to pole,  I thank whatever _gods_ may be, For my **_unconquerable_** soul.”  The intonation that she applied to certain words was calculated.  She had repeated _this_ many times.

“In the fell clutch of _circumstance_ , I have not _winced_ nor cried aloud.  Under the _bludgeoning_ of chance, My head is **_bloody_** , but **_unbowed_**.”  The recitation was rattling her, but she continued.

“Beyond this place of wrath and _tears_ , Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years, _Finds_ , and _shall_ find me, **_unafraid_**.”

“It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, **_I_** … am the master of _my fate_ : **_I_** … am the captain of **_my soul_**.”

 

* * *

 

The silence was deafening as Quinlan paused.  He hesitated for only the briefest of moments, as he had no idea how to proceed at first, but he broke it swiftly, “Why do you know _this_ poem?”

“I know lots of _poems_ … “ she began to fumble with her fingers again, “I get … bored … _got_ bored.”

“Why _this_ poem?”

She almost seemed embarrassed to respond but she did so as she continued the nervous act, “I … I thought it was fitting … I was _dying_.”  She made no mention of that dark voice or of their Master’s despise for the words.  She danced shyly around the truth, as she could also tell he was doing as well.

But it was her turn again, and she took the reigns of the conversation back now, repeating her original questions again, “Why did you bring me back here?  What did you want from me?  Was it _that_ poem?  What does it mean to _you_?”

Quinlan sighed loudly now, the slightest rattle audible on the end of it.  He was displeased with her almost non-answer, but he conceded his secret at last.  If he gave some of his truth, perhaps she would reciprocate.

“It is what _he_ calls me.”

“Who?”

“The Master … my _father_ … I am the _unconquerable_ …  I am the **_Invictus_**.”

She would offer no other words after this, but she would remember distinctly, that voice, deep in her mind while the _Pale Man_ had been stealing her life, the voice that had said: _that poem was the only thing that mattered_.

She had expertly skirted around the subject without revealing anything really, and her recitation of the verses had bought the conversation just enough time to be abruptly interrupted by the entry of the rickety old man.  She could tell the _Pale Man_ was not satisfied; he was not yet convinced that was where her story ended, but she could also tell that he did not wish to continue the conversation in front of the Professor either.

She would realize, only after he stood and removed himself from the couch, silently taking a seat at the papered dining table, the _exact_ gravity of his revelation.  She knew at that moment why it had made their _Master_ so _very very_ angry with her.  She now understood something that she had wondered so many lonely nights in that cold and dark place.

She had falsely assumed it was something that she had _discovered_ herself, something that she had afforded _herself_.  That leverage it had given her over their _Master_ , that sanity that it had afforded her all those pain filled nights, that modicum of control that she clung to.  But … it hadn’t been _hers_ at all.  It was because the _Pale Man_ himself had that effect on _the_ _one_ , on their _Master_.

And she closed her eyes tightly as the truth melted over her.  All of that _strength_ , all of that _hope_ in that time of her greatest need, all of that **_POWER_** had never been _hers_.  She had borrowed it all … from _him_.

And she would never call him the _Pale Man_ again.

His _name_ is **_Quintus_**.


	36. 6.6 - Eventuality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from Author: I found this chapter very hard to write. I knew where I wanted to go with things from the beginning and I hope that it came across smoothly and not too forced. If not, stick with me for a bit regardless.
> 
> ಠ◡ಠ

The old man made her wildly uncomfortable at first, but he seemed to be pleased that she was awake.  She thought he might want to converse when he asked her if she wanted some coffee, but he made them two cups in complete silence as she sat at the island, watching him work.  She tried to hide the eagerness of her nod, but she knew he’d seen it.
    
    
         “My god … _coffee_?  Is he for real??”

“Sorry, it’s _instant_.” she swiped the hot cup from his hand with a honest smile and the old man stuttered for a moment before continuing on to join his companion at the table of papers.

Mid journey to his work space, he turned and offered an olive branch to the younger woman, “You are welcome to stay if you wish.  We have enough space.”

Dutch came ambling down the stairway, stretching as she went.  Her blonde hair was in a crazy mess atop her head, strapped down with at least three or four hair ties and an uncountable amount of bobby pins.  She bounced over to the kitchen to make use of the old man’s newly heated water and Ephraim followed mere minutes later.

Dawn could gauge a certain amount of friendliness between the two, even though they were attempting to hide it.

Ephraim immediately stopped at the island, “Need me to take a look at your stitches again?”  She shook her head’ and he quickly noted the area on her jaw that had been struck the evening before, over the course of the night it had turned into a vicious looking bruise.

“Oh crap, I missed that last night,” and without really thinking, he reached out to palpate it, but she pulled away briskly and simply smiled.

“No worries, Doc.  I’ve had worse.”

And Ephraim noticed something else he had missed last night, now with her face in full view of the kitchen lights.

“How are you feeling?” and he peered directly into her eyes now, specifically at the whites of her eyes, “You feeling normal?  You might have a slight anemia or iron deficiency going on there.”

She knew what he saw.  The bluish tint was something that not many noticed; it was almost too subtle.  Even the Born had not been able to put his finger on what was off about the coloring when he had first seen them in that concrete room.

She smiled again and expertly played off his discovery with precision, “Really?  I’ll be sure to try and find some iron then.   _Thanks_.”

Everything about her demeanor had changed from the night before and he could feel a sense of relaxation.  However, that relaxation would be shortly lived.

“Wait … what the fuck is _this_?” Dutch had just noticed the changes that had been propagated through her board, “What the flying **_fuck_** is _this_?”

Ephraim picked up something in her voice that he’d never heard before and he pushed for validation on it, “What?  What’s wrong??”

She was standing squarely in front of the board and she was visibly angry now, “Who changed my **_shit_**?!”  She already knew that there was only one person who could have done it.

She swung around and locked eyes with the small woman, whose own eyes had become wide with guilt, “DID YOU CHANGE MY SHIT???”  Dutch voice was now louder and the Professor turned to determine the cause of the commotion.  The Born stood.

“ _Why_??? _Why_ would you change my shit??”  Her voice was full of desperation now and she regretted not copying the information down in a secondary location.  But why would she have needed to? No one there would have changed her work!!

“This … this took me weeks … THIS TOOK ME **WEEKS**!”  Tears welled up in her eyes and the stress of her situation came crushing down on her.

Dawn offered the weakest of explanations now, “It was … _wrong_ … I _fixed_ it.” as she began to stand now.  She was not good at verbal confrontations and her mind now played a familiar song:
    
    
         “I told you we should haven’t touched it.”

Dutch was furious now, “You … YOU … _fixed_ it??”  This behavior was uncharacteristic of Dutch, she was usually so calm, but the stress of what had happened pushed her over the edge at this point.

“Some of your assumptions were _… off_ ,”  Dawn’s Flight or Fight instinct had already made it decision, and she was now moving towards the door.  Quinlan quickly stepped between her and her destination.  She wasn’t sure if he was going to try and stop her, but she just diverted around him nonetheless.

“I’m _sorry_.”

“You don’t even _know_ what I’m doing, how would you know that they are wrong!?  You’ve cost us weeks … you’ve … you’ve **_fucked_** us.”
    
    
         “Don’t engage her.  We need to leave … we need to leave _right now_.”

Fet and Gus were now coming down the stairs.  The commotion had, indeed, awoken the entire house now.

Fet looked worried, “What’s going on??”  He had partly expected an impending attack or something of epic proportions, given the volume and concern in the hacker’s voice.

Quinlan now attempted to diffuse the growing anger, “Miss Velders” while, concurrently, Ephraim, unintentionally, fanned the flames, “Maybe she did _fix_ it, she said she’s good at math.  Isn’t that a bunch of _math_??  Wasn’t it _not_ working _anyways_?”

This was something that Ephraim hadn’t shared and the idea of the young woman being “good at math” now confused everyone in the room except Quinlan.  He, of course, heard the entire conversation.  But, Dutch immediately took the defensive, as she jumped to the conclusion that Ephraim was siding with the newbie.

Dawn had made it all the way to the door now and she picked up the bag that sat next to it, affixing it to her back and pulling the straps down to make it tight.

Quinlan sought to diffuse again and he raised a hand in an attempt to hush the hacker briefly, “There is no need to react.  What has changed?  Can it be changed back?”
    
    
         “Don’t engage him.  We need to leave.”

She ignored the question entirely and proceeded to lift the crossbar, only for the Born to push it back down again, as he’d done in that concrete room.  He now held it in place calmly.

“Dawn.  Can you fix this?”  He knew the importance of what Dutch was trying to do and he didn’t wish the action of saving her life to cost the team more time.
    
    
        “ _STOP_ engaging them.   _We need to leave_.”

“ ** _We_** did _fix_ it.  It was **_wrong_**.”

It took her a moment to realize what had _actually_ escaped her mouth.  Dawn’s own shock at using the wrong pronoun out loud caused her to bring her own hand up to cover her mouth entirely.  Her eyes grew wide with shock.
    
    
     _“OMFG … OMG … GOD DAMN IT. WE NEED TO LEAVE **NOW**.”_
        

Everyone heard it, even the old man.  Her cheeks were now flush with reddish color and she left her hand covering her mouth, hoping to stop from engaging the anything further.

“Waitaminute … did you just say ‘ _we_ ’???  Oh great … **GREAT**.  And she’s _crazy_.”  Dutch’s anger was only growing more erratic now.

The tears had finally escaped the _thin woman_ ’s eyes, and were trailing down her cheeks and she violently chucked the dry erase marker that she had been holding against the wall to the right of the board.

“We are _fucked_ now.  She’s _fucked_ us … This is **_YOUR_** fault!”  She blamed as she pointed a violent finger towards the half-breed.  Her overreaction was now hitting an new high.  No one had ever heard the hacker curse **_this_** much.
    
    
         “DON’T.”

Dawn was a patient person and she had very few buttons, but the mention of the word “crazy” was definitely one of them; it ignited that fire that she was fighting to keep in control, that fire that the Born knew burned deep within her.  She’d been so quiet up to this point and that particular word, she had taken particular offense to.  She wasn’t **_CrAzY_**!  Right??

“You had **ALREADY FUCKED** _yourself_!  You hadn’t even considered filtering out the bulk of the noise floor interference before starting your initial Frequency Difference of Arrival calculations!”

Dutch blinked … she managed a forced “What???”  before she swung back around to the board as she realized that the woman did _indeed_ , know what the calculations were for.  The hackers face scrunched to an impressive scowl and she spun back to the direction of the short woman.  Her voice now shifted from anger to immediate confusion “Wait … I don’t need to do that … The signal is plenty powerful enough that the noise floor isn’t even a concern … wait … **WHAT**??  How do you even know _that_??”
    
    
         “For Fuck’s sake … **_DO NOT_**.”

But Dawn was still fueled with resentment from the **CrAzY** comment and she couldn’t stop the last damning sentence to be released.

“BECAUSE IT’S WHAT I DO” and she corrected the tense, as she often had to, “I mean … _did_.”
    
    
         “You have fucked _us_ now … or rather, you’ve _fucked_ them.”

Everyone turned to the square faced woman and now it was Abraham that finally spoke up, “Miss Dawn.  What exactly did you _used to do_?”

She knew she shouldn’t utter the words that they were looking for next.  She knew she needed to keep this particular secret, because she knew that if she answered the old man’s question, they weren’t going to let her leave, even if she wanted to.
    
    
         “We can’t stay.  We can’t.  Don’t put them in danger … _please, not again_.”
    
         “I think they are _already in danger_.”

She attempted to raise the bar again, but the Born held it in place and now he spoke to her again, softly but demanding “ _Dawn_?”

“It’s what I used to do, but I’m _retired_ now.”

The Born’s sentence was brief, “Retired from doing _what_ specifically?”  There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance in his voice, and she knew it was because he had no intention of letting her leave without further explanation of herself.

“I know _DSP_ … I used to be a _consultant_ …” she stared down at the ground now and her heart began to race.
    
    
         “Please … it’s not too late … we can still _leave_.  Just **STOP** talking.”

Now it was Dutch, “ _Consultant_??  For who??”

“For … the government … “

Dutch’s anger had vanished and she raised one eyebrow remarkable high as she inched her way forward and towards the woman.  She was squinting at her now, “What kind of DSP _exactly_?”

Dawn fidgeted now and hesitated; she rubbed her wrist again, as he had seen her do earlier on the couch.  The Born pushed, “ ** _Dawn_**?”

“… _geolocation_ …”

* * *

 

Abraham, Fet and Quinlan sat on the same bench next to the dining table, facing the now conversing women and simply watched in quiet awe.  None of them were entirely sure how to ingest what had happened or was currently happening.  The initial blow up had been over nearly an hour ago and now they seemed to be getting along, better than before, at least briefly, before another mini dispute would erupt and one of them would steal the marker out of the other’s hands and erase what the first had just written on the board.

The short woman: “The amount of time and frequency precision that you need in order to make this type of calculation is NOT something that you can just do on your piddly little workstation!”

> The tall woman: * _taking great insult_ * “Excuse you, my workstation is NOT pidd-lee.  That thing is running a Intel Xeon 2.3GHz with 16 cores!”
> 
> The short woman: “You are missing the point!  We are going to need access to an [atomic clock](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAtomic_clock&t=ZDQxOTBiOWY1ZWYxNzZkMzIyNGJiN2Q0OGMwYjNlOWE4NGYxYmRmMSxWR0ZkZ3NoSQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) of some kind … a [rubidium](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FRubidium_standard&t=NGE5MzMxZWFiMTIyMzk1MTcxM2MwZjQ3OTRjNDg4YzRlYTA1MmM0ZixWR0ZkZ3NoSQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) maybe? … a [caesium](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCaesium_standard&t=MmJlZTRkMDA1ZDNjNThjOTY1MzhmNGI5ZDU3N2EyZDI4ZDRiYjI1MCxWR0ZkZ3NoSQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) even better.”

Quinlan blinked at all the words.  “Is this how all _American_ women of this _era_ interact?”  It wasn’t just the content that baffled the Born, but also the act of the interaction itself.  The abundance of animosity coupled with the various high fives, followed by laughter and then more arguing.

He understood more of what Dr. Goodweather would rattle off than the bulk of this subject matter; Medical Sciences were a bit older than … whatever _this_ was.  The women bounced off of each other like electricity, rattling terms that no one else in the room had the vaguest notion of.

“No no no, I think dis might be how _hackers_ interact,” Fett offered, but in all honesty, he was equally as confused.

> The tall woman: “Is that ‘we’ as in me and you?  Or ‘we’ as in the multiple people that are apparently inhabiting your brain??
> 
> The short woman: * _PENETRATING EVIL STARE_ *
> 
> The tall woman: “Sorry sorry … I understand that you think we need to train the clock better.  Oy, I really don’t think we need something like that … my calculations were _fine_ before.”
> 
> The short woman: “Dude, you had geolocated the _entire_ state of New York.”

Quinlan asked his bench mates, almost rhetorically, “How does one _train_ a _clock_?”  Fet shook his head in silence.

> The tall woman: “Well … that means I had the general vicinity _correct_.”  * _insert adorable smile here_ *  “Besides, I was able to locate that interference signal, remember?”
> 
> The short woman: “Yeah, but whatever _that_ was, it was several orders of magnitude more powerful than the signal you are _currently_ trying to track.”

Now Abraham chimed in, enamored with the scene as well, “I told you she was a **_spy_** , Mr. Quinlan.”  This revelation was only met with Quinlan’s trademark “Hmm” non-verbal agreement coupled with the slightest of head nods.

Dawn picked up on that word specifically, even from across the room and quickly corrected him before returning to her verbal sparring match: “ **CONSULTANT**.”

She’d already corrected the old man three times but it didn’t seem to be sticking.  She had explained that she was _NOT_ a spy.  Not anywhere close to that.  She had never even met any spies on her job.  And that she was not the Bond equivalent of Q either.  She had worked for a private company.  She specialized in writing papers and white boarding hypotheses.  Her explanation refused to stick.  She returned to arguing with the tall woman and trying to beat down her unreasonable demands.

“I just can’t believe dat you brought her here, Q.  I mean, am I the only one that sees the _weirdness_ in what _just_ happened here?”

No, Vasily was _NOT_ the only one that had noted the coincidence which had occurred.

Abraham now offered up something _profound_ that struck a deep cord within the Born, and the old man only knew _half_ of the coincidences that had actually lead up to this reveal.  He had no idea about _Invictus_ nor her dragonfly eyes.  Quinlan’s actions concerning the woman now seemed justified in an instant.  Being out of control was not something that the dhampir was complicit in feeling.  The entire situation seemed almost … _orchestrated_.

“Mr. Fet, I don’t know if I believe in **_coincidences_** anymore …”

> _And that hidden force patted itself on the back._

“Only **_eventualities_**.”


	37. Interlude 3 - The Monotony of Immortality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an important interlude, at least to me. We never really have any insight into Q’s mental state. We can only make assumptions about this, since we’ve seen very little of him between Rome and Now.
> 
> I hope this helps to set up, what I feel, is the background of what it must feel like to really live forever. And, I honestly don’t see Q as a knight in shining armor. I don’t think that’s realistic. I also don’t think he is beyond redemption or love.
> 
> Also, I feel that there are a TON of unanswered questions in canon. A TON. I plan on addressing a lot of those questions in my fic. One of those questions is … why did it take Q so long to show up. If he’s been hunting the Master, where the fuck was he???
> 
> So, here we go … Down the rabbit hole even further … Enjoy.
> 
> (◕‿◕✿)ノ

## Interlude 3 - The Monotony of Immortality

Quinlan was _tired_ …

… and he had been so for _centuries_ _now_.

The Master had always been one step ahead; as ever, he was _too late_.

Most days, he would sit alone in his flat in Rome and simply … **wait**.  In the last several years, without any leads offered on his father’s whereabouts, he only left on _that very special day_.  And on that day, he would visit the farm that he still owned.  On _that day_ , he would return to the ruins that had once been his home and remember _her_ , remember _them_ , on _her birthday_.  

This had fueled him for over a thousand years, but even with his mind as sharp as it was, the memories seemed to fade from time to time.  He considered that had he not still had the locket, he might have even forgotten her face entirely by now.  And at some point, he realized it wasn’t _just_ the memories that had been fading, but the emotions that had accompanied them as well.  And not just the feelings that he once had for them, but seemingly _all feelings … all emotions_.

He wanted to be fueled by that vicious and penetrating _rage_ …

He needed to be driven by that burning demand for _revenge_.

But he realized that almost _all_ he felt had started to wane the last four or five centuries.  He grew tired and the years were making him numb.  As technology blossomed, it had actually drove him to become even more of a recluse.  Before the expanded access to information, it had been easier to venture out into society.  People used to assume that he had some sickness or ailment and would generally avoid him.  Now they had become more curious and he had even been questioned directly several times.  This, coupled with the current obsession with sharing photography on the “online”, he found it preferable to simply stay hidden entirely now.

Perhaps this is what the Master had planned.  To stay one step ahead, to beat him by simply waiting him out.  The young ancient had already realized many millennia ago that he could not beat his son with physical combat, but perhaps he thought he could beat him psychologically.  Perhaps he _knew_ what Quintus was just starting to grasp, that time would simply defeat his son for him.  He had considered this numerous times, and the consideration of it would drain him of motivation further.  It had become a cruel spiral.

So, Quintus continued to grow more tired … of _everything_.

 ** _He had once enjoyed fighting and strategizing_**.  Learning, teaching, refining and then reiterating.  Until half a century ago, he would travel and learn from all cultures and schools.  There was always something new that he could discover or pick up.  But there were no wars that he could fight now; no new civilizations that he could benefit from visiting.  And he found that modern warfare no longer had any use for his _talents_.

When firearms were first invented, he was quite fascinated and it had sparked an almost childlike excitement, but even this waned.  He found his weapons of choice and became proficient in a minuscule amount of time.  He kept up his skills with advancements but even this became more of a chore than a treat … after a while.

 ** _He had once enjoyed killing_** , if only for a time.  He was half strigoi and he had embraced that side of himself with spectacular vigor after the loss of his family.  The Ancients had even cultivated and promoted this side of him.

This was a dark time of several hundred years over which he was now remorseful.  It had been centuries filled with blood, rage, and satisfaction.  He had feasted on all types, all ages, and all things - savagely and ruthlessly, with and without consent.  He had tried to prove to himself that he was more strigoi than human and he had drowned his anguish in the blood of innocents and cretins, tyrants and saints.  Quintus knew he was not a _good man_ by _any_ means.

 ** _He had once enjoyed hunting_**.  Strigoi are wired to delight and savor in the hunt for prey, but again centuries ago, he had stopped enjoying the act of both. Now it was all one massive burden.  Albeit one that the Ancients had made easier for him, but just another chore nonetheless.

In retrospect, the technological advancements of the last hundred years or so had been a blessing, as he no longer even needed to interact with people to obtain sustenance.  There were few modern conveniences that he actually appreciated and this easily topped that list.  At least, he had not enjoyed the act of feeding … _until_ … those _dragonfly_ … **no** , he _digressed_.

 ** _He had once enjoyed pleasure_**.  When he was younger, this had been dangerous for any human involved.  But as he learned control, he had commanded restraint and had _relished_ in it.  Having vowed to never wed again, he was still a man and he embraced and enjoyed those urges often … _thousands_ of times.

He had preferred to pay for these services.  This was not only accepted but it was expected back then.  Most had been afraid of him and this ensured there not be a need for attachments nor prolonged relationships, just the act itself and the pleasure that followed.

There had even been a _handful of moments_ where the act had been offered to him _without_ cost or … those times when he had, _regrettably_ , taken it by force.

Sometimes he would remember the **_former_** fondly: the _priestess_ , the white witch in Buda, that farmer’s daughter, the red haired Russian hunter …

Sometimes he would remorse over the **_latter_** … _especially_ the priestess … Times were different and things that were accepted then would simply be _vile_ now.  He had learned the need to adapt to the new ages and embrace their moral codes quickly for the sake of his own sanity and survival.

But _even this_ … _eventually_ he had even grown disinterested of _even this_.  It became progressively harder for him to physically act on his desires and nearly four centuries ago, the desire itself seemed to have vanished.  Strangely, he had not missed it since.

And, **_he had once enjoyed love and intimacy_**.  Once and only once had Quintus surrendered himself to another.  There is a clear and concise line between _pleasure_ and _intimacy_ , and the _Dark Haired Woman_ had been the only one he shared the latter.  Sadly and cripplingly, **_only the latter._**

It had been his younger years when he had been too unpredictable … too undisciplined.  It would have been dangerous, or this was the excuse that he told himself to prolong his reluctance.  Plus it had taken them _both_ a long time to even learn to love and to trust.  

And of all the things in his very, _very_ long life.  Of all the atrocities and all the lives that he had taken, he regretted his hesitation … _this_ reluctance most of all … to have known _that_ side of her love.  He had pilfered that time.  He had wasted it because he had feared it.

But … he _digressed_ , yet again …

In the end, none of it mattered anymore … They were _all_ ash and dirt; already returned to the Earth and he was still here … alone again … _as always_.

So for all intents and purposes, Quinlan had considered himself **_dead_** on the inside, or simply in the process of dying …

When he received initial word from the new world Ancients that they believed the Master was behind the current infection in New York, he was not moved by their request for action.  Instead, he had sent Vaun, a good soldier, in his stead.  He regretted this lack of action as it might have cost him his chance at finishing this once and for all near the beginning.

Initially, he had given himself many reasons for the doubt, and even now, they had been quite logical.  The Master had never ventured to the New World before.   ** _Why would he do so now?_**  What would cause him to start a siege so far from the land with which he was most familiar?  And in the Americas, of all places?  The Americas, which embrace their gun rights so fervently.  And to expose himself in such a grand way would have drawn too much undesired attention, from him and from the Ancients.   ** _There was something illogical about his actions._**  Even now, misunderstanding this caused the Born pause.

No, Quinlan had assumed that it was a diversion, likely put in place to draw the half-breed out to hunt.  He would bide his time until he was sure the Master would reveal himself.

Plus, he had never had an ounce of desire to visit the New World.   ** _There was nothing there for him._**  The long journey across the water would have been hard enough, so Quinlan had stayed … waiting.

It wasn’t until he felt the psychic aftershock of the Professor’s attack on the Master’s body that he realized his fault.  The shock of the pain that the Master had unintentionally shared with him had jostled something free in Quinlan’s psyche.  During the long ride across the Atlantic, he would recognize that this was the beginning of _hope_ , and for the first time in half a millennia, he was almost open to it … _hope_.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it was faith that he would have his _ultimate_ revenge, or if it was simply the expectation that it would all be over soon.  Regardless, it gave him something to strive for, something to drive him finally … again … after so many years.

> [ The xx - Missing](https://open.spotify.com/track/6hUbZBdGn909BiTsv70HP6)
> 
> _My heart is beating in a different way_  
>  _Been gone such a long time and I feel the same_  
>  _My heart is beating in a different way_  
>  _Been gone such a long time_

And **_now_** , as he sat, transfixed on that dining room bench, he surveyed his new human companions, and he was overwhelmed with more emotion than he had had in hundreds of years.  These _humans_ … these _people_ … these _companions_ … were now affording him what had faded over the centuries.

 _ **The Professor**_ reminded him of his _rage_ and _anger_.  The old man shared his longstanding hate to a point that invigorated him to his core.  They shared the need for justice.

 ** _The Doctor_** reminded him of his _loss_ and _revenge_.  The broken man had a mutual understanding of his deep seated need for vengeance to a degree that restored his very drive.  They shared the same frailty caused by the loss of love in all of its flawed glory.

 ** _The Architect_** reminded him of his _optimism_.  The giant gave him glimpses of his younger days, when he thought anything and everything was possible.  They shared the same prospect of what the future might hold, regardless if they were to be a part of it.

 ** _The Boxer_** reminded him of his _strength_ and _perseverance_.  The young man had taken all of that pain, all of that loss and he had converted it into power.  He maintained durability regardless of the what had folded down upon him, even now.  They shared the fortitude that only loss can bring.

 ** _The Hacker_** reminded him of his _curiosity_ and _determination_.  The engineer shared his motivation to continue the fight using all avenues available, no matter the discouragement that might present itself, no matter the obstacles that might present themselves.

 ** _The Poet_** reminded him of his _defiance_ and _bravery_.  The woman’s rebellious nature and her sheer will to survive had revived his own . They shared the inability to back down, whether it be rational or not.

But the quiet woman had done even more than that.  She had also reminded him of his _humanity_ and his capacity for _mercy_.  And this had afforded him something that he had not felt for the longest of all, not since that fateful day at the water’s edge when the world had smiled upon him.  What she had shown him was simple and pure acceptance, even in all of his repulsiveness.  He remembered it clearly now when she had first pulled back her hood and exposed her dirty little face to him.

He had not seen fear in those dragonfly eyes … he had seen hope.  And he knew he had squandered that gift she had offered him.  She had lost that look now, but he was resigned to restore it.  It had somehow made him … _stronger_.

For **_now_** … as he watched _his_ humans, in all of their flawed glory, as he watched _his_ team, bumble around as only mortals do, as he watched _his_ comrades, who had all become willing accomplices in helping to fulfill _his_ destiny … something stirred that he thought was forever lost.

For the first time in a very long time, Quintus wasn’t _alone_ anymore …

And … _most_ importantly …

**_He felt alive again._**


	38. 7.1 - Trust

It had been nearly a week and the women had come to some sort of impasse that they were unable to overcome.  Mr. Fet and the Professor had grown bored with their “chitter chatter”, as they called it, after the first day and they reverted to whatever they could find to pass the time.

The Professor had gone back to studying the book, yet again.  He was still convinced that they were missing something and his perseverance on this task impressed even the Born, whose own patience was legendary.  On some days, Quinlan would join him in research.

Mr. Fet took to leaving quite often to explore the houses around for various supplies.  The annoyance this caused the old man was unflinching.  

“Mr. Fet, it’s best if _NO MINIONS_ see us.”

“No worries Professor, I’ll wear a mask then.”  This actually turned out to amuse the giant man quite a bit as he said it made him feel like a _superhero_ of sorts.  On some days, Quinlan would join him in hunting and scavenging, but he refused to wear a mask.

Gus continued to work on his ‘ _secret project_ ’ in the garage.  Quinlan already knew that he had been turning it into a training area.  The boxer was nearly finished and very pleased with himself in general.  They weren’t sure how long they would be able to stay there, but Gus had made a mention of seeing the good Doctor attempt hand to hand with a strigoi at one point and realized that he would be most useful if he could try and impart some of the knowledge that Vaun had taught him to the rest of the group.  On some days, Quinlan would join him in whatever tasks he needed help with, which was usually lifting something particularly heavy.

Ephraim just drank.  At some point, he had given up trying to help Dutch, and once Dawn had arrived, he took a back seat and drank.  When _the fall_ occurred, there wasn’t much time to grab any of his supplies or medical gear to continue the disruption research.  They had lost the _feeler’s_ brain and hadn’t seen any since.  When they had first arrived, Ephraim tried to set up another lab in the basement, but quickly became disillusioned.  Quinlan didn’t want to help Ephraim drink, so he just left him alone.

In general, Quinlan felt quite useless.  He knew he was just biding his time with them, but he had come to enjoy the comradery that had grown.  He knew that each day, the Master only grew stronger, but right now, their hands were tied.  When they had fled New York after the bomb, the Master went into the wind.  They had spent weeks trying to find him but then they had become the hunted and they were unable to stay in the city due to humans susceptibility to the ‘fall out’.  His numbers were simply too great, he could have been anywhere now and his pursuit of the Born had become relentless, so they had gone to ground.

Dutch recommended the house as a safehaven.  She had a hacker friend which she had called a “prepper”.  She had explained that he had made his house “off the grid”.  Equipped with its own well, generators, solar panels (as useful as those can be in New York) and years of freeze dried rations.  The beautiful hacker was correct; it had proved to be perfect.  It also had the “ _dishes_ ” that Dutch said she would need to use to get “online”.  A lot of terminology was brand new to Quinlan, some of it wasn’t, but he quickly deciphered it all.  Adapting to new eras was a skill with which he was _most adept._

He knew that Dutch had blamed herself for what happened when they arrived, even though the blame rested solely on him and the “prepper”.  The man had not been amenable to letting them in the home and there was little time to meander.  Quinlan made the hard decision, as he always had in the past, between his destiny and the man’s life.  It had been fast and he had made it painless, but Dutch had still cried over it.  She had cried for days even though she had accepted it.  She understood the importance of _their_ survival over the irrational man’s.

But when he wasn’t helping the others, he had grown fond of watching the two women banter.  He was fairly good at pattern matching and languages, so he had resigned himself into trying to resolve their speech entirely.  It took him a few days to accept that it was just an excuse, he actually just enjoyed listening to their electricity.  He liked watching them as well, especially because he had no idea what they were saying … yet.  He sat with almost childlike fascination while pretending to help the Professor.  But, Abraham was no fool and he knew the old man was onto him as Setrakian had stopped asking him direct questions days earlier.

Dutch was tall, slender, and quite stunning.  A perfect representation of what passed for classically beautiful in this century.  She painted her eyes with too much paste for his tastes, but her eyes were still striking, regardless.  Her tousled hair was always the sublime combination of chaos and order and it always shaped her feminine face perfectly.

She was attractive, exuberantly charismatic, and impressively intelligent, a fact that had not escaped Mr. Fet nor the good Doctor; as they both courted her.  This fact caused them to bicker often, causing him or the Professor to step in and diffuse the situation.  They acted like _children_ over her and Quinlan could tell that she loved it.

Clearly, she was of European descent.  And while she was physically attractive, she did have a trait that grated on him.  She always had a retort for whatever conversation was happening, and she always placed herself in a position where she would get the most attention in any given situation.  But many in this generation seemed to be like that.  It had somehow become a prerequisite that those born in this era be somewhat self-centered.

Dawn, on the other hand, was very nearly her opposite in many respects.  She was very short and pleasantly curved.  Once she was able to find more fitting clothes, she had looked more like a woman than a child in adult clothing.  Her face, unlike Dutch’s, was square and her cheek bones were high.  

He had first thought, due to her freckled skin and ash hair, that she was likely Scottish or Irish descent, however her traits were a combination that he had rarely seen and he found himself staring one day, only to have her notice.

> “Yes?”
> 
> Quinlan looked away, “Apologies.”
> 
> “What is it?”  She was often curt with him.
> 
> “What is your _descent_?”
> 
> Dutch crinkled her face at the odd question, but Dawn smiled.  Quinlan immediately knew he was onto something indeed, but she was rarely willing to part with any unnecessary information: “I’m _American_.”
> 
> Quinlan blinked, “That is not a _descent_.  That is a _nationality_.”  He did not yet realize that she had actually already answered his question.
> 
> “Sure it is.  It’s the melting pot.  I’m a _mutt_.”
> 
> “Define what ‘ _mutt_ ’ means in your case then.”  He disliked _that_ word intensely.
> 
> She found it amusing that he seemed to be demanding information from her, “Why?”  She smiled now, not bothering to shift her full attention to him.  She knew why he was curious; she knew she was odd, both in appearance and other things.
> 
> “ _Nevermind_.”  Quinlan was rarely annoyed lately, and she basked in the glory of being able to push one of his elusive buttons.  But only briefly.
> 
> “Some Scottish, Irish … German …”  He answered with his characteristic, non-verbal “hmm” paired with a head nod.  He was no longer amused with the conversation and she could tell he had given up on figuring out what he had seen in her features.  He turned to make use of himself somewhere else and she relented, “Some Cherokee.”
> 
> Quinlan turned, but Dutch had the first response, “Really??  Cause, you look pretty _European_ to me, love.”
> 
> Dawn shrugged it off, “Genetics.  Dominant vs. Recessive.  You can dilute any dominant gene with enough recessives … or so I was told, at least … great grandmother.  I had turned in one of those ‘lineage’ tests, but I guess I’ll never know _now_.”
> 
> She turned to Quinlan and smiled.  She smiled so infrequently and he relished it.  Progress.  “ _What_?  You think you were the only _mutt_ here??”
> 
> Quinlan, himself, also rarely smiled, but the smallest of curves slowly breached the right side of his mouth.  He answered again with his characteristic, non-verbal “hmm” paired with that head nod, but now he was obviously pleased with the results of the conversation.  That was, indeed, what he was looking for, as he now noted that it was the high cheekbones and square face that had thrown off his original assessment.
> 
> And … Dutch interjected, as always, “I’m part Lithuanian!”

But the smaller one was quiet and reserved, only sharing her more explosive side with Dutch while they worked.  He knew there was a fire that she concealed, carefully and secretly.  She had hid it quite well since deciding to stay with them for a while.  Promising to help Dutch figure out the solution, she said she would move along after.  She reiterated that stance multiple times, until she had learned that Dutch was connected “online” with the technology he had seen on the roof, then she hadn’t mentioned leaving again since.

Quinlan recalled the genuine grin on her face on that revelation; she had simply been beaming:

> Short woman: “What do you mean you are ONLINE?!”
> 
> Tall woman: “New York is fucked and many big cities are FUCKED, but not everywhere is _FUCKED_.  If you knew how the internet work–”
> 
> Short woman: “THANKS.   _I know how the internet works_.”

Quinlan, however, did not know how the internet worked exactly and he desired greatly to ask at that moment; he opted to remain silent.

But … _now_ … they had come to some kind of impasse and sat silent.  Tired.  Vexed.  Defeated.  Until …

> Short woman: “You simply CAN’T do these kind of calculations on your workstation.”
> 
> Tall woman: *having given up arguing against the point because it was correct* “This is all we’ve got.”
> 
> Short woman: “Great … so if we start processing the data now, we’ll get an answer in a year or two.”  *she didn’t want to actually do the calculation to determine how long it would take and that was likely a gross overestimation*
> 
> Tall woman: “Well, I have two towers, two laptops, and George has a few extras stashed in the basement.”  *mentioning the man’s name brought shame to the hacker’s face*
> 
> Short woman: “We need HUNDREDS of processors, Dutch.  We used a cluster of HUNDREDS of machines for these calculations.”  *We referred to her previous employer*
> 
> Tall woman: “So, after all of this … _we are fucked_.”
> 
> Short woman: “We just can’t do enough FFTs in the time that we need.”

The mention of the word ‘FFT’ rattled something loose in the tall woman’s brain and she leapt from her seat with such vigor that it shocked the shorter woman.  She’d seen that word … very recently, right before she sat down and the sudden force of the crazy idea that graced her mind sent her into a spin that she was almost unable to verbalize clearly.

> Tall woman: “Hundreds??  … _How about **millions**_??”
> 
> Short woman: * _scrunched face_ *
> 
> Tall woman: “ _millions_ … of parallel processed networked clustered machines, already all set up to work in unison to do nothing but _fucking_ _calculate Fast Fourier Transformations._ ”

Quinlan blinked.  He had been holding a piece of paper the Professor gave him to ‘look over’ again, but he had not read a word on it yet.  He simply listened.  The tall woman was seeming to have some kind of revelation, but she had simply repeated their existing problem again to the short woman, without adding any information to it.  He knew he had missed something, especially after the short woman jumped up from her seated position with the same vigor.

> Short woman: “that’s … that’s … fucking **BRILLIANT**.”
> 
> They both, in turn, shifted their gaze to the monitors and the graph that bounced across them.  Quinlan could see the goosebumps rumble over the shorter woman’s skin.  He was missing something still.
> 
> Short woman: “Can … can we _really_ use that though?  How do we use that??  We’d have to contact peop–“
> 
> Tall woman: _*nodding to herself with great pride*  “We don’t have to contact shit, love … I’m gonna hack SETI.”_

There was a high five, and at that moment the impasse was surmounted … _somehow_.

 _Curious_.  And he hid the faintest of smiles again.   _Good_.


	39. 7.2 - Trust

“HEY Q!”

Quinlan suddenly realized that the giant man had been trying to get his attention, and likely for quite some time.  “Hey … Let’s go shopping … I gotta get outta here man, their chitter is driving me _crazy_.”

Dawn shot Fet _that look_ now; she was very perceptive and _quite good_ at giving those looks.  Plus, Quinlan knew that she had a fair amount of _disdain_ for that word in particular.  He was pleased she was sharing _this look_ with others now, besides _just_ him.  He actually didn’t want to leave, but he nodded and agreed to accompany the human on his little scouting adventure.  It was still early afternoon and there was plenty of sun left.

After they had removed the crossbar and were attempting to exit, the Doctor expertly put in his order, “If you find any Vodka … actually, or Whiskey … hmm, I’m not picky actually.  Pick me up anything over 50 proof.”

Of course the Doctor was already out of his _medication_.  Generally he burned through any quantity that was actually in front of him in a single sitting.  And just as they were closing the door, Dawn uncharacteristically called out, “Oh come on Eph … please, enough with the hard alcohol … can you grab some wine or _something else_ for once?”

They would have to walk a number of streets to get to fresh and empty houses that they had yet to scavenge.  Their walk was in complete silence, as usual.  Quinlan would walk swiftly in front of the man, listening at each possible house they would consider.

“No, there are three in the basement” and he would move onto the next house.  Three strigoi, not a problem for him, but the idea was now ‘low profile’ until they had a better advantage over the Master.

Coming up to a particularly large house, Quinlan nodded and proceeded to its front door.  It was locked, which was actually good.  It meant that it likely had not been looted quite yet, and a swift kick sent the door flying and Fet immediately hit the kitchen, as always.  That man was insatiable, even for his standards.

Quinlan moved throughout the living areas first, trying to spying anything of use, but he rarely found anything in these areas.  He would spend the majority of his time in the bedrooms and closets, where people were most likely to hide their weapons.  He’d found quite a few firearms hidden in safes and even ammunition stored away in boxes.  He could easily smell the gunpowder that they harbored.  Nothing in this house … no, it had been useless for him.

He quickly moved to survey the garage in one last attempt and he spied something particularly useless on the workbench.  The sight of it caused him to smile and he slyly placed the object in his coat pocket before the Ukrainian came barging out of the kitchen, waving two bottles in his hands and looking quite pleased with his find.  Quinlan was pleased with it also and he nodded to the man without smiling.  The large man shoved the finds into his bag: a bottle of bordeaux _and_ a bottle of cabernet.

Indeed, this had actually been a _good_ hunt after all.

 

* * *

 

Dutch had been furiously plugging away at her keyboard when _the boys_ returned.  She thought it funny to group the two thousand year old into _the boys_ , but he was grouped nonetheless.  And, he also obviously associated with being a boy, so that made him a boy and that made him a member of ‘ _the boys_ ’.

In the beginning of their time here, she had pestered Ephraim with questions about Born anatomy, but the Doctor had been annoyingly close lipped.  She always received the same response, “If you wanna know … then by all means, ask away.  I’m sure he’ll be forthcoming with … _that_ question.  Hey Mr. Q … I was just curious but … do you have any _junk?_ ”

Finally Ephraim had gotten clever and had halted her interrogation entirely by pointing out the simple fact that, “You know, he can probably hear you talking _right now_?”

 _Bugger_.  When Ephraim pointed that out, she was suddenly _very embarrassed_ around Quinlan, for a few days at least.  She even withheld sex for a few nights after that reveal.  Partly because she was flustered he would probably hear them and also to punish Ephraim for pointing it out.  Living in such close quarters with so many people, some of whom had super hearing, was getting uncomfortable, to say the very least.  She missed her privacy.

But now she watched as they entered, and curiously picked up on a strange demeanor from the half-breed immediately.  He normally took off his coat, first thing, but he seemed to be hesitantly approaching the kitchen.

She had been wearing headphones, and quickly removed them so that she could survey his movements a bit better.  He was acting odd, and coming from him, that was substantial, since she always found him a bit odd.  His movements were slow but deliberate, and he was slowly approaching Dawn from the side, in her blind spot.

The short woman had set up a workstation of her own on the end of the kitchen island days before, when her and Dutch were ‘unable’ to share the space at the folding table ‘effectively’.

At that moment, Fet interrupted loudly, “Hey, you doing anything right now??”  He knew she was, but he was eager to brag about the loot they’d discovered and he held out his bag with extreme excitement, “You wanna see what I found?”  He pulled out a ziplock baggie that was filled with a dried herb.

Dutch’s hand went up silently and quickly to silence him, and he followed her eyes to see the dhampir sneaking up on his prey.

Quinlan moved quickly and Dawn had not noticed yet.  He removed something from his coat pocket but they were unable to make it out fully until he sat it on the counter, just to the right of her keyboard.  Dawn didn’t seem shocked by his suddenly appearance, and her eyes locked onto the item that now rested within her workplace.

Even the look on his face was odd and almost uncharacteristic.  He hadn’t smiled but his eyes were wide and hopeful as he was obviously quite pleased with himself over this _offering_.  And he simply stood, waiting for some kind of reaction from the mathematician.  Her brows scrunched up and her eyes floated from the item to his general direction, being careful to avoid his eyes.  She seemed annoyed and simply returned to her typing.  No words were spoken.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan left the item where had left it, sulking away in mild disappointment.  He had made it to the table before he started to remove his coat finally.   _His olive branch had failed_ , but he would not be deterred … not yet.  His defiance might even match her own.

Turning back to survey said failure, a twinge of optimism pumped through him.  The item was no longer where he had left it and, in fact, it was no longer visible at all.  She had taken it and … hidden it somewhere.  She was quite good at that, it seemed.  Now he smiled, ever so briefly, as she had accepted his _gift_.  Perhaps not to his face, but accepted it nonetheless.

Progress.

 

* * *

 

Fet scrunched up his face now and whispered into Dutch’s ear, almost inaudibly … “Was that …  did he just give her … a roll of _Duct Tape_???”


	40. 7.3 - Trust

Gus had been ecstatic when he had announced that he felt he was finally finished.  It had been mid-afternoon and the boxer had sprung from the garage at an almost full gallop.

“Aight guys!  It’s finished!  Come take a look!”  He waved enthusiastically to everyone.  When no one moved immediately, he coaxed again, “Come on!  It’ll just take a second!”  His smile was incredibly large.

Dawn was the first to stand and approach, waiting for him to proceed.  She was sweet and he liked her smile, that she now graciously afforded him.  After she had stood, Quinlan had also stood.  He knew what the boxer was going to show, but it seemed like he wanted to witness the reveal anyways.  Dutch and Fet followed quickly and Ephraim attempted to not move from the couch.

“Hey, this is specifically for _YOU_ bruh … come on … let’s do this.  You can get back to your booze later.”

Ephraim protested like the child he is, “If the Professor doesn’t have to go, then why do I?”

“Cause Abe don’t need it like you do.”  Quinlan considered returning to the table after the last comment, but decided to stay.  He was tired of sitting anyways.

Everyone simply lobbed a dirty look at the Doctor until he complied.  They all knew Abraham would continue to sit where he sat.  Nothing short of the Master himself barrelling through the front door would motivate that man from his seat in front of that expensive book.

As Gus opened the garage door, he stopped to address his mini-crowd.  He’d been practicing it in his head as he finished the last of the painting.

“Ok, so here’s the thing.  Q knows it, but I got some training before the shit really hit the fan, and I was thinking it would be a good idea to … you know … IMPART some of that knowledge.”  He was the most proud of this word, he felt it sounded very smart.

And he opened the door and stepped into the transformed garage.

 

* * *

 

Dawn looked around, completely wide eyed, before she moved into the space.  She’d been blocking the entryway and it took Fet’s prodding for her to move along.

What they saw was almost glorious.  It had taken him a week, but he had managed to convert the entire space in a … _dojo_?  At least that is what she equated it to immediately, but she quickly correct that assumption to its proper definition; he’d made them a boxing gym.

It was confusing where he might have procured all the supplies, but he often went with _the boys_ when they _shopped_.  There were mirrors, and a makeshift boxing ring, some improvised punching bags, made from what looked like several pillowcases and likely filled with sand.  They probably wouldn’t last long, but they would still be hittable, at least a few times.

The smile on Gus’ face was contagious, and now everyone smiled in unison.

“Are you for real Gus?  You did all this by yourself??”  This came from Dutch.  She was wildly amused.

“Nah, not alone.  Q helped some … “ and the boxer pointed to the dhampir who stood simply and motionless in the doorway now.

“But, yeah man … I just … I just wanted to be useful, you know.  I can show y’all what I know, and maybe it might even save a life or two.”

He moved around to show them the rack of improvised weapons that he had put together, “See … stuff you might find around.  Fightin’ strigoi ain’t just about shootin’.  You’ll run out of bullets … Doc.”

Ephraim shook off his comment; he knew exactly what situation that Gus was hinting at.  But, in all honestly, he was still impressed, “Yeah yeah yeah, thanks … I _guess_.”

Dawn simply walked around and timidly touched all the things … everything that she walked by, she reached out to touch it, but Gus reached out to stop her from touching the side of boxing ring.  His sudden movement and the feel of his skin against hers, made her recoil immediately and she brought her hand quickly back and against her chest.

“Sorry, hey sorry.”

She had not intended to recoil so fiercely and she apologized too, “no, I’m sorry … “

The tension that she conveyed was obvious and Gus smiled again and offered, “Nah, it’s just … it’s not dry yet.  I just painted that.”

Now he turned his attention to the rest of the group, “So, tomorrow morning … we start training.  Bright and early.  We gonna start with CARDIO too.”

The mention of CARDIO made Dawn beam now, and in all honestly … She HATED cardio.  While it had also made Ephraim and Dutch cringle simultaneously.

Ephraim attempted a meek protest, but Gus was succinct in his victory, “It ain’t up for _discussion_ , Doc.”

“Oy,” the hacker frowned.

 

* * *

 

She woke before everyone else, but that was normal.  She never really slept more than 6 hours, even before _the end_.  She woke and helped herself to the kettle quickly.
    
    
        “Coffee … thank Zeus himself.”

She didn’t believe in Zeus, or in _any god_ , but it was still the same mantra she hummed to herself each and every morning since she decided to stay for a while.  Although, in retrospect, she wasn’t entirely sure that ‘ _staying_ ’ had been completely up to her.  Nevertheless, it was nice here.  Warm, safe and … quiet.  She then pilfered something from Fet’s latest score.  Not a healthy breakfast, but she shrugged and took the bag of gummy bears with eagerness.

Since that mishap with the wrong pronoun in front of all of her new companions, her other half had gone completely silent.  It was for the best, she thought … it was a nasty habit that she would need to break … considering …

She shook the thought and quickly visited the bathroom and prepared herself for the morning’s routine.  The boxer had promised an early morning start and she was actually pretty excited for it.  There hadn’t been much physical activity for her since arriving and she actually was getting a little stir _crazy_ … hmm … stir HAPPY.  That was a better word.

When they went out on what Fet had lovingly dubbed “shopping”, she never accompanied them.  This was for two reasons, really.  One, they never asked, and two, she didn’t want to see the red circles.  She stayed and as long as the circles never saw her, she wouldn’t put them in danger … right?  
    
    
        “Right?”

But only silence greeted this question.

When she was done in the bathroom, she wasn’t shocked to see Quintus sitting at the table already.  She was convinced he didn’t really sleep, but he stayed in his room regardless.  It was like clockwork, he would always show up shortly after she woke up and _always_ after she came out of the bathroom too.  That was not a _coincidence_.

Her suspicions about his need for sleep were also rooted in something he had said in the beginning as well.  Originally, he had tried to get her to take his room, claiming he didn’t really need the space.  It probably would have been nice to have a room to her own, but she had refused, simply because it had been _him_ that was offering.

She offered him the same pleasant, “Good morning” that she had done since the third day.  The first two days were just awkward silence.  And he would respond with the same words while he sat stoically on his bench.  He was creepy, to say the very least.  And she had grown to hate how careful he was around her.  She hated people treating her as if she were _fragile_.

Then the hour or so of silence would start before anyone else would venture downstairs.  This time had made her uncomfortable until they had gotten her work station set up.  Now, she simply plopped herself down at her keyboard and went to work.  She wasn’t as good or as fast as Dutch, but she knew the tech inside and out.

Today however, Quintus had stirred.  His action yesterday had been peculiar, even for him.  Still, Duct Tape is useful and she’d already hidden it where she had stored that original bag that they had packed for her on that second day here.  They hadn’t even noticed that it had disappeared, although a part of her knew Quintus likely had noticed and said nothing.  But it was somewhere that she could grab it in a moment’s notice.

She had always been good at calculating and planning for eventualities.  It was all just math, after all.  Life was just one big math proof, she decided early on, and living it was just a matter of navigating the necessary next step to get to your goal end statement.  Unfortunately she had failed at navigating herself to her preferred career choice though.  She was sure no one sets out saying they want to be a mathematician.  She could trace back the failure to a single mid term in college that she had failed due to bronchitis; she originally had wanted to be a botanist.  If that one asshole in the library hadn’t sneezed on her that day …

Her reminiscing train of thought was cut short by his voice.

“So this _location spell_ will simply tell us _where_ the Master is located?”  She hadn’t noticed that he had moved from the table and was now standing in front of their white board, examining it quite intently.  Normally she would simply ignore any attempt of his to interact, but she found his wording particularly entertaining.

“ _Spell_??”  Now she smiled, widely and he enjoyed this.  He had baited the conversation well, “You think us _witches_??”

Quinlan turned to face her, “Hmmm … Perhaps it is a _poor choice of words_.  However the last two centuries in particular have shown me that _Magic_ is simply _Technology_ that has not yet been explained.”

“Fair enough.  It’s not very “ _simple_ ” … but hopefully it will … just tell us, that is … yes.”

Now he turned back to the board and stared at the squiggles, “How does it work?”

She now scrunched her face in confusion, “What do you mean?”

He repeated his simple question, “How does it _work_?”

“It works with signals and math and “ she waived her hand around in a circular way, “technology things.”

He looked at her gesture and he was obviously not pleased.  She had spoken condescendingly.

“Wait … are you _serious_?  You want me to explain how it works??”

She stood now and approached the board slowly, grabbing her coffee as she went.

“Yes.  I would like to understand this, if possible.”

She took a sip as she stopped her advancement, keeping at least four feet between them, “I’m not sure I should … “

He turned now, almost confused but not entirely.  His posture was impressive, and his hands were clasp in front of him as he stood at attention, “Why not?”

“Job security.”  She had meant it as a joke … at least partly.  Maybe not though.

At these words, he blinked.  She quite liked the look on his face when he was baffled, but the realization of this fact made her blush slightly and she took another sip of the hot, caffeinated drink to hide her reaction.

She could tell that he was considering how to ask what that meant _exactly_ , and she spoke before he could manage his next prodding query, “It means that it’s in my best interest to remain irreplaceable.”

His head tilted at this, and he quickly countered, full of seriousness, “I assure you … we have no plans to _replace_ you.  And … you may stay for as long as you wish.”

Now she laughed, “No no no … it was … that was … it was meant as a _joke_.”  Now she felt bad about pulling his chain so successfully.  He was so damn literal it was almost too easy.

His stance immediately relaxed a bit and he answered in his characteristic “hmm” coupled with that fascinating little head nod.  Then he shifted his hands from being clasp in front of him, to being clasped behind and he turned back to the board, perusing it.

“But seriously … why do you wanna know?” She wasn’t going to admit to him, but she was slightly worried about divulging all of her knowledge to someone who might kill her on a whim if it suited him … again.

He faced her, “If this _knowledge_ has power over the Master, I should know it.”  He paused, giving careful thought about proceeding with his next words, “It is _possible …_ even _likely_ … that this fight will continue beyond _your_ lifetimes.”

Now it was her turn to blink at him.  Yes, he was right about that.  Whether that _lifetime_ was an average human lifespan, or whether it was just two more weeks, she knew it was likely that he would outlive them _all_ in the end.

“Alright then …  “  She smiled and his eyes were wide.  She wasn’t entirely sure where to start though and she paused, taking another sip.  She had no idea what he already knew, and if she would need to teach basic math in order to make progress.

However he knew exactly where he wanted to start already and he pointed to the very first diagram that she had drawn on the board when her and Dutch had started that very first day.  

And after his next statement, her previous thought about remedial math made her blush a bit, causing her to realize what The Master had already learned over a thousand years ago.  It was, indeed, foolish to underestimate the Born, _in any respect_.

 _“If you will … please_ start with _this_ … ‘ ** _Doppler_** ’ … Effect?”


	41. 7.4 - Trust

Ephraim usually woke up when Dutch did, but he rarely got out of bed with her.  She was far more of a morning person than he was, and he was never ready to function until he’d at least had a shower.  So he begrudgingly pulled himself up and into the cold water that awaited.

Gus had told them to be ready bright and early but his hangover today was particularly nasty after that combination of whiskey and red wine, so he look his sweet time pulling himself up and into the shower.  He had considered a little hair of the dog cure, but he knew that wouldn’t go over too well with the determined trainer and maybe it was a bad idea with whatever CARDIO he had planned for them.  In any case, he decided that he would need coffee in order to prepare for whatever was in store.

Regardless of how mentally prepared he was or _wasn’t_ , the scene that greeted him as he came down the stairs was both a little confusing and ultimately very amusing.

Dawn was standing, in front of the coffee table, opposite from the couch and she was waiving a dry erase marker at the board that she had rolled over to the area and flipped to the blank side.  Dutch and Quinlan, were seated right next to each other on the couch, facing her.

As Eph took the last step on the stairs, the short woman asked a question.

“So the complement to TDOA is what?”

Dutch attempted to answer immediately, but Quinlan had already spoke, “It is Frequency Difference of Arrival.”

Then he saw the short woman clap her hands once and look very pleased, “Yes!” and reach into a small plastic bag on the side of the coffee table closest to her and hand something to the dhampir, whose hand was already out, palm up, ready to receive it.

Dutch now countered, “Ah come on man, I knew that one too.  I’m the one who coded that up last week!  You otta let me answer sometime!” and now she turned and gave her couch mate a perturbed look.

“Why would I _let_ you answer first?  It is a competition.”

Ephraim moved closer to the couch, and as he came into view, he saw a fairly sizeable pile of gummy bears sitting directly in front of Quinlan on the coffee table.  Dutch had a pile of … one.

“Huh?  Why does it have to be a competition??  I don’t even know why you’d want them, it’s not like you are even gonna eat them, right?”

“It is the metric for our performance.”

“Hey!” Dawn ignored Eph’s entrance and snapped her fingers at the bickering two, “ _Pay attention_.  What’s the advantage of TDOA-FDOA vs. TDOA-TDOA location methods?”

Ephraim didn’t want to distract and he simply stood, waiting for the result.  

They spoke simultaneously, however, the hacker dallied in the _succinctness_ of her answer … yet again.

–> “Oy, I know that one!  its because–”

–> “The former requires three receivers, whereas the latter may only require one.”

Quinlan held out his hand again, and he was rewarded with another treat.  At this point, the hacker reached into his pile and took a bear, quickly throwing it directly into her mouth, all the while chewing and grinning wildly.  She turned to the Born with a face full of adorable and in an attempt to flirt, as she does best.  But her cute nature was only met with a stern gaze and her smile faded immediately.  He was _not amused_.  Begrudgingly she offered him her only bear and he took it without hesitation, adding it to his stash, and sliding his pile away from her reach and off to his left side.

Now Ephraim couldn’t take it any longer, “What the hell are you guys doing???”

Dutch jumped. She had been the only one that didn’t see or hear the Doctor’s approach, “Oh!  Hey Love.  We were just … uh … getting a little lesson.”  Now she popped up to give the Doctor a quick kiss before they heard the words that they had been dreading since they had opened their eyes that morning …

“Aight you slackers … who’s ready to get started?? … And where da hell is Fet??”

 

* * *

 

Everyone loitered around as the boxer stood in front of them, donning baggy sweat pants and an overly tight wife beater.  Their “CARDIO” was quickly over and left most of those involved with short breath.  A bit of running in place, some jumping jacks and other movements that required effort.  Gus quickly complained about their shapes and he threatened it would get “harder” next time.

Quinlan thanked his strigoi anatomy; these actions did not look satisfying and he would have hated to need to perform them everyday and on a continued basis to retain his physical prowess.   _Silly humans._  

For now, he simply stood back and in the corner, out of the way but remaining observant.  Gus had asked him to interject with anything that would be useful, and the dhampir put his hand up in mild refusal.  He just wanted to be here to watch for now.  Vaun had been a good student, one of his best in fact, and he was sure he was also a good teacher.

But with the warm up actions now completed, Gus had wanted to ‘dive right in’ he had said, but he also wanted to go over some ‘basics’ first.

“Ok, I’m gonna need a volunteer.”  And everyone shifted around, nervously looking away and careful not to meet the boxer’s eyes, so Gus drafted his first victim, “Ok then, you … _big boy_ … let’s do this” and he pointed at Fet.

The next scene was almost comical.  Gus rattled something off about ‘the bigger they are’ and instructed the big man to attack him.  It was only a few second before the big man was on his back and the smaller man was offering him a hand back up.  He instructed him again, to ‘come at [him]’ and it again ended in the same conclusion.

Gus then interjected some points of wisdom about being ‘off balance’, about ‘throwing yourself too much into the movement’ and about understanding it’s ‘not all about size’.  Then Gus waved for him to rejoin his comrades and asked for the next ‘victim’.

 

* * *

 

And for the first time in over a week, she heard that all too familiar voice in her mind now:
    
    
         “Don’t be dumb … I know what you are thinking.  Don’t do it.”
    
         “I’m not thinking _anything_.”
    
         “Yes you are.  Don’t do it.  Just listen and give nothing away.”
    
         “Sure.”
    
         “God damn it …. We don’t know these people.  Don’t give up our only real advantage.”
    
         “What _advantage_?  Quintus already saw—”  the interruption was flawless.
    
         “No, he saw us try to headbutt and eye gouge his ass … he saw us _desperate_ and completely _uncontrolled_.  That’s it.”
    
         “False.  He saw us in the side yard.”
    
         “When we were weak and clumsy.  Please … just don’t.  Don’t give up your _one_ _advantage_ … to these people.”

But she ignored her own warning and raised her hand quickly when the pretty man asked for his next ‘victim’ and she smiled.

It’s not all about size, right?

 

* * *

 

He knew Mr. Elizalde was a trained boxer.  He’d seen him down strigoi with his bare hands alone and he’s seen the impressive strength behind his defined arms … well … impressive for a human.  So he hadn’t actually expected what came next from the small woman as she visited the weapon rack before entering the ring with the boxer.

She perused the rack and grabbed one of the simplest weapons available, a wooden handle that Gus had removed the top from, likely a mop or broom of some kind.  It was roughly the same size as her staff, and Quinlan suddenly remembered how gracefully she had swung the metal bar right into his temple.  His stance shifted and he approached the scene slowly as she ducked under the ropes with her prize.

“Hahaha, ok then … you think that’s gonna protect ya?”  Gus’ smile was fantastically big at this point, “ok chica … _come at me_.”  and he brought both of his hands up in a welcoming gesture telling her to approach him.

But the woman stood still at distance from him, “I don’t want to hurt you though.”

Now Gus beamed … “You ain’t gonna hurt me.”

“Yeah, you say that now … “

“If I let _you_ hurt me, then I _deserve_ it.”

 

* * *

 

Dawn found that comment condescending and ultimately, as total consent for what she did next.  She was actually struggling with how to proceed before these words were spoken.

She’d taught for a number of years, as a Sempi instructor under Mr. Parker, and it had always been difficult.  Not the act of teaching itself, but in showing techniques to her intended students.  

Generally a technique is shown as a series of powerful blows.  Each blow, having an affect on the outcome and state of the opponent before the next blow occurred.  Case in point … if she were to demonstrate the technique that she had attempted on the Born and succeeded on the second man, the person who was ‘pretending’ to be the victim, would need to ‘double over’ after the knee strike.  It was like practicing a dance, but not all students surrendered to this fact.  They liked to prove themselves better than their instructor … in particular _her_.

Usually the bigger men would continue to fight as if they had not been harmed to begin with, and due to her size, they would eventually grapple her into submission.  Simply to show their dominance.  If she had not held back, that wouldn’t have happened.  If she had been allowed to actually hurt them … to break their knee or nose, then they would have seen the benefit of said technique.  But she could not and though Mr. Parker was able to simply out ‘strength’ them into submission when these pigheaded students appeared, she could not.

So teaching had been more difficult for her simply because she was actually forced to use MORE control than her bigger, male counterparts.  Now she was faced with a similar situation.  How much force would be too much?  She didn’t want to hurt the man, especially because this would in fact be a _sucker punch_ of sorts.  She knew she actually wanted to impress him.

He did not see it coming.  But she also accepted that, in all honesty, even if she had disclosed any training that she has had, even at this very instant, it probably wouldn’t have even changed his current view of her.  When she had disclosed it in the past, people laughed at the thought or simply dismissed it eagerly.

She might have even just conceded to defeat before … _that comment_.  It was the intonation that he had put on ‘ _you_ ’ that bothered her the most.  Dawn had few ‘buttons’ and Gus had definitely pushed one.

> “Was that … a _challenge_?”


	42. Fan Art - 1

  
  


#  [quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com)

 

 

> [Fan art of Dawn, original character and protagonist of The Strain’s Fanfic “A savage inconvenience”](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/152986659680/fan-art-of-dawn-original-character-and)
> 
> You have given us a great contribution to the fandom with your incredible Fanfic, and **every day since October** , you have entertained and murdered without compassion my evenings with it, so here is a fan art of your magnificent OC, who I love to the point that I really wish for her to be canon in the show **.**
> 
> _**“A Savage Inconvenience”** _
> 
> _**The Strain FX | Mature | Quinlan/OC** _


	43. 7.5 - Trust

She stood very still until the boxer was impatient enough to step forward.  Then he reached out to either push her or simply grab her, by the shoulder or the shirt, Quinlan couldn’t tell what his intended action as it never reached its goal.

She stood with her arms at her sides and her legs together.  She had been holding the staff parallel to her body, the bottom end resting completely on the ground, gripped within her right hand and pulled snugly against her body.  Quinlan recognized it at once; she was standing at _attention_.  Though she stood completely still, he could hear the thundering of her heart now.  Its rate only increasing with each passing second.  Now he moved so that his view would not be blocked by the giant man who stood between them.

As the man reached out with his right hand, her left hand came up swiftly and grabbed the staff near its top.  Her grips shifted and the staff swung in a beautiful spin, up from the floor and connected swiftly with the man’s wrist, in between her, now tight, grips on the shaft.  There was no hesitation in the next move, it flowed effortlessly into the next technique, completely circular and fluid; no new movement ended before the next was already beginning.  Quinlan could tell it was something that had been learned, taught, and practiced … often.

The right grip, that was now above the left, torqued the staff in the opposite circle movement from the initial block, and spun the wood under and around the opposite side of the man’s forearm, now the staff was to the outside of his body, but still firmly against his wrist.  During the torque, she took a deep step to the left and her hand still gripped the wood but now also his wrist.  The staff rested completely parallel to his arm, and she applied severe and immediate pressure causing his body to thrust forward, bending at the waist completely.  He made a good grunting noise at this.

The end of the stick, at the lowest point, resting on his opposite shoulder, across his neck and all the way down his arm to the wrist, at its new highest point.  She had his body positioned at a perfect 45 degree angle to the ground.  Now that the twisting was done, she paused ever so slightly.  She was baiting him, and he tried to fight for control of his arm back.  Quinlan could see the grin on her face, the same grin before she had hilted that blade into his side in that concrete room. 

> “Sucker …”

He wasn’t paying attention to his stance, he was trying to pull his arm back.  He’s a boxer, and he wanted his arm back.  He could strong arm it back, yes.  She wasn’t stronger than he, but at this moment, she didn’t care about the arm any longer, and as the bent over man began to force his arm out of her grip, she released it.  Quinlan noted that her deep step had been planned.  Her left leg now came forward and swept the boxer’s right leg from under him.

This probably would not have been enough to down the man …  just a single leg sweep, but she also torqued her body to the left, at the same time.  The opposite end of the staff connected with his chest in unison with the movement.

He was on his back now, and Quinlan heard him lose his breath as he hit the mat, grunting as it happened.  Now she stepped forward with the opposite leg to where he now laid and placed the end of the staff to his throat … gently.

Her current stance, all the movements of the staff, and her advanced planning of the boxer’s attempts, Quinlan was now sure she’d had _actual_ training.  He hadn’t even considered that until _now_.  When she had fought him before, in that cold, dark room, she had been dirty and almost undisciplined.  But at _this_ moment, he realized it wasn’t that at all.  She had simply been desperate.  With Mr. Elizalde, she could afford to be controlled.  He was just _human_ , after all.

Quinlan felt foolish for not considering it before.  He thought she had been careless by helping him, but she obviously possessed more skill that warranted at least some of that _extra bit_ of confidence.  Regretting again that he had not actually seen what she had actually done to the man with that little elf stake, he approached the ring silently.

“Mr. Elizalde” she said in the most authoritative voice they’d heard from her to date, “Your stance should always be your number one concern during a fight.  You can’t fight if you aren’t standing.”

Dawn moved away from the downed man, taking 4 large steps backwards as she went.  She spun the staff around in a complex figure eight pattern, using both hands to enable this _dance_.   On her final step, she was holding the staff vertical to her body, the bottom resting on the ground, gripped within her right hand as low as possible and pulled snugly against her body.  She was back at the original standing attention stance.  Her glorious little grin had not left yet.

“ _The fuck just happened?_ …” Dutch’s voice was almost a whisper, but with the slightest bit of added intrigue.  Fet would have said something next, but he was still laughing.  Everyone fell silent as Dawn felt a familiar chill float down her spine.  There were eyes on her again.  She turned around and faced the _man_ who stood behind her.

Quinlan had entered under the makeshift ropes, swiftly and silently, while she had been twirling unnecessarily.  He stood a mere four feet from her … _again_.

 

* * *

 

In hindsight, she knew that he wasn’t the one who instigated what happened next.  No, the fault of that decision had in fact, been hers and hers alone.  But it would take some time for that to settle in, and much happened in the interim.

She wasn’t sure what exactly had set her off.  The fact that she had just downed the boxer and her adrenaline was up and her heart was racing?   The fact that she now faced Quintus again and she had a weapon in her hands?  Or maybe it had simply been panic, now reminded of what happened in that small room.  She doubted it was the latter, she wasn’t really affected by things like that.

She stepped forward and swung the right end of the staff horizontally at his temple.  He deflected by bringing his right hand across his body and blocking it on the opposite side of his face.

She torqued the staff in a circular spin and swung the left end horizontally towards his exposed torso.  He deflected it.

She brought one side of the staff back towards her body, making it vertical now, as she thrust the other end of the staff towards his groin area.  Now he sidestepped and grabbed the shaft firmly in his hand.  His brow raised ever so slightly, and she knew he didn’t like that particular attempt.   _Dirty_.

She tried to pull the stick out of his grip sharply, but he was already stepping behind her, facing her back now, all while maintaining hold of her weapon, he firmly placed a hand on her shoulder and effortlessly pulled her back and to the ground.  It was a gentle take down, all things considered.  

As she fell to her back, he pulled the weapon fully out of her grip and he stepped out of the way so that she would land cleanly.

> “Fuck … we just did the same thing to Gus …”

Then he spoke, and everyone simply watched, “Do not rely on your weapon fully.  If it _compromised_ , consider an alternative quicker.”  She knew by ‘compromised’ he meant because he had taken control of it with his preternatural grip.  _Fucker_.  He threw the staff over the ropes and to the boxer who had quickly exited the ring already.

Was he trying to give _her_ a _lesson_?  His words only incensed her more, and as he stepped to face her front, towering above her, he offered a hand to help her stand, asking “ _Bōjutsu_?”

She ignored his hand though and rolled backward now, over her right shoulder and coming back to a standing stance, facing the tall man.  She felt a stitch in her back tear as she did so, but the roll allowed her to gain distance from him, so that she might recover for the next assault.

“ _Okinawa-te_ ” she sneered and now she attacked with her arms.  Nothing circular now, just straight punches, speed punches … power punches.  She stepped with small jabs and attempted a few elbows.  She had no idea why she was continuing, but at this point, all she felt was anger.

_Asshole._

He was too tall for this kind of attack to even work though and none of her blows were landing, he simply just moved slightly out of their way, dodging each attempted strike, until the last that she tried in this barrage.  He stepped to the outside of the punch and grabbed her arm, pushing her down on the ground again, but this time she landed forward and onto her knees and hands.

His voice only seemed to enrage her now, “ _Karate_?”  And he offered her a hand again.  She ignored it … again.

“ _Shotokan._ ” She spat as she came to her feet.  Her heart raced fiercely. Remembering the vulnerability that he had made her feel that night in the concrete room, her face became contorted with anger.

She was losing control.  No, that wasn’t entirely true.  She had already lost control … he had taken that from her already … in that _fucking_ room.

She didn’t realize that she was yelling yet, but now she came to her feet as he started to repeat some other ‘lesson’ item about what she had just tried.  “Do not let anger–”

She kicked at him now, but he parried it swiftly, reaching out and stepping forward leaning towards her ever so slightly.  This was the first time he had make any _real_ movement, and she quickly stepped forward to take advantage of it.

He hadn’t been expecting it per se, not that it mattered though.  She moved her back towards him as he stepped and he assumed that he could just grab her around the body and hold.  But she did not stop, she was moving _with_ his step, having grabbed the top of his hand with her thumb and guided his arm forward forcing an additional step out of him.  If he had been human, then she would have continued this momentum in a side ways torque with his wrist and she would have sent him rolling into the ground.

It didn’t work fully as he quickly realized what her intention was, however he was completely surprised by it.  He stopped the momentum at once.  His next question was more of an observation, “ _Aikido_?”   This caused him to actually smile.  He then flipped it back to her wrist and used her own momentum to apply the same technique she had intended on him and sent her tumbling and rolling into the ground.

 

* * *

 

This take down had not been as gentle as he wanted, he used more force that he had intended, likely due to his minor shock that she had moved him, even though it hadn’t mattered.

Her arm went out to stop the roll and Quinlan heard the smallest of noises.  A noise that no one else would detect.  A noise that he had trained himself to pick up, especially when fighting.  The tiniest of noises that rippled through her forearm … an almost inaudible, even for him, _crack_.  The noise was paired with the a half grunt half gasp that escaped her.

Quinlan’s eyes grew wide.  He had not meant … **_oh gods_**.  He stepped towards her and quickly bent to aid her in standing, “Forgive me … I did not intend …”

She slapped his hand away from her arm.  She was still so very angry.

“Don’t!  Don’t _TOUCH_ me.   _ **NEVER**_ touch me … _again_ ” she was standing now, staring at the ground as she yelled at him.

“Forgive me … … ” but even now, Quinlan knew that shouldn’t have happened.  Even with the violence of the tumble; that should not have occurred.  The embarrassment on his face was clear and she gripped her forearm tightly.

“It was not my intent to harm–”

She cut him off and she released her flood gates of rage.  Everything that she’d been feeling and holding inside rushed out, all at once.

“Really??  Because you’ve had that intention before … you intended _that_ … didn’t you??”

Quinlan blinked now.

“I simply desired to help–”

“Help?  Help what?  Help _me_??”

Quinlan blinked again.  He wasn’t even sure how to tread carefully now.  He had, in a matter of seconds, destroyed all of the progress that he had made to regain her trust.

“I don’t **_NEED_** your help.  I didn’t need it back then and I don’t _need_ it now.”  He knew this to be true.

“I apologi–”

“Another apology?  Another one?  Are you apologizing because you actually regret _what_ you did or because it’s simply your _nature_?”

It dawned on him now that they were no longer speaking about the sparring match that had just occurred.  He inferred that she meant his nature as a monster and a part of him took insult to what he thought she was calling him.  He sneered in response, “Yes … _my nature_ … my nature is _savagery_.”

Her next words rocked him, “I mean your inability to _TRUST_ … “

He blinked again and everyone simply watched the enraged woman unload onto the gladiator that towered over her, “YOU DIDN’T _HAVE_ TO DO IT.”

“It was unfortunate” his short lived anger rushed away and slight shame returned, “I did not see an alternative.”

“You could have TRUSTED me!!!  We were SAFE.  I saved YOU and you–”

“I was not aware–”

“You tried to _kill_ me … _**AFTER** I SAVED YOU_.  I … I … killed a RABBIT FOR YOU!”

“It was a _rash_ decision” Quinlan relented now, even with all of the eyes staring at him.  He had not told them.  He had not wanted them to judge him or _fear_ him, but perhaps they should.

“I could have just _let_ you die.”

“I know.”

“I could have just LET _**HIM**_ KILL YOU.”

“I am aware.”

“I SAVED **YOU** INSTEAD OF … _instead of_ … “ she paused, recounting the memory of the Shiny Man … so very close … “I _should_ have let you _die_.”  She knew she was angry and she wanted to hurt with her words.

Now Quinlan blinked … her choice of words were _curious_ … but her words had also worked; they were painful.

“You should have trusted–”

“ **I have not survived for _THOUSANDS_ of years by ‘ _TRUSTING_ ’ … _ANY ONE.  YOU ARE NO DIFFERENT_ ,**”  the volume of his voice shocked even him and the sentence ended with a rattle that then shocked everyone.  The content of the sentence was not entirely true, but neither had the content of hers either.  He had lost control of his intent, again and Quinlan now twitched violently.  This was not something that the crew had seen often and they had never seen a twitch this pronounced escape the half-breed.  Dutch’s skin crawled with bumps.

Her fire and rage dissipated instantly following this and she moved out of the ring without uttering another word.  She still held her arm tightly as she exited the room, without meeting anyone’s eyes.
    
    
         “ _Asshole_ ” her mind stated.

Quinlan stood still and replayed the interaction in his head now, as everyone remained silent.  He had not intended to make her feel defensive again.  Her willingness to share her knowledge with him that morning had invigorated him with a similar excitement and he had simply wanted to reciprocate by sharing some of his skill with her.

“Right … ok … soooo … who’s next?” Dutch attempted to break the most awkward silence to date that they’d ever experienced as a group, and Quinlan glared at her as he moved to follow the woman.  Perhaps he could fix this?

Gus had already been standing between the Born and the door.  He put his hand up to halt Quinlan, “Let her go, man.  I think you both need to chill a bit.”

 _Indeed_.

So instead, Quinlan decided it best to go for a walk, perhaps visit his stash house.  He had been putting that off.  On his way out of the garage, he turned back to Ephraim, “Doctor, you should examine her arm.”

“Examine?  Why?”

“I broke it.”


	44. 7.6 - Trust

Ephraim waited patiently outside the bathroom.  This was the only place that had afforded her any amount of privacy, but she’d been in there almost an hour now and he prodded.

“You can come out … He left.”  Ephraim offered and then the door slowly creaked open.

“Oh.”  She didn’t look angry anymore.  If anything, she looked embarrassed.

“Come on, let’s have a look at it.”  Ephraim pointed to her right arm.

“It’s fine.”

“Seriously?  This again?  Have you not learned that I don’t give up yet?”

“It’s really fine, I torqued it.  But … “ she was hesitant now because she knew her next comment was going to annoy him, “Do you think you can restitch me?”

“Damnit … AGAIN?!”  He swore she was pulling a stitch out every other day just to annoy him.

But Ephraim took her into privacy again so that she would be able to remove the shirt and expose her back to him.  He did NOT relent though.  He’d been planning on breaching this subject for a while, and the encounter with Quinlan had made him more confident in his discovery.  He fiddled with his tools now, preparing everything to start the stitch, but he stopped and conversed first.

“So … are you the shortest one in your family?”

His question seemed off topic, but she jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, “hahaha, no no no, not even.  I’m one of the tallest actually.”  He nodded … he had already expected as much.

“That’s impressive!  … Also … _THAT_ was impressive … “

“What?”

“What you did … or tried to do … in there … You take _Karate_?”

“I used to.”

“Not something that I would have expected from someone like you … “  his statement had been calculated.  He was tip toeing around the subject.  He was _baiting_ her.

“ _Like me_???  … Thanks Doc.  Just because I’m a nerd doesn’t mean I live in a hole.   Martial arts is actually just a bunch of logical steps to progress to a known outcome.  It’s very much just Math in practice.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Because I’m a girl then?  Or because I’m short?  It’s more believable that an exterminator is somehow a demolition expert AND an architectural genius, or that an old pawnbroker is also a hunter of the undead … than for a small, intelligent woman to know how to _defend_ herself?  Real people have more than just one dimension, Doc.”

He laughed out loud at this … it was obvious that she had thought about that a lot, “Fair enough, fair enough … but that’s not what I meant _either_.”

She wasn’t exactly taking the bait, but Ephraim trudged forward, “How long have you been doing it?”

She actually quite liked to talk about this side of herself, it was something that she felt a great swell of pride in, “On and off, since I was 10, much to my mom’s dismay.  I stayed in the same style and school for over 12 years, but I moved and my teacher passed away, I tried lots and lots of other schools, other styles, but nothing else stuck.  eh … so, I gave up training entirely about 5 years ago.”

“You seem to remember a lot of it … “

“It’s all muscle memory over time.  When you start something young enough, it helps.  Almost like learning a new language, but with your body.”

“How did you find time to do something like that?”

“Did you play an instrument Doc?”

He laughed, “Yeah, the violin.  My parents forced me to … they even paid for lessons.  Apparently it was going to be useful at some point in my life.”

“Yeah, I don’t. I don’t play an instrument, I didn’t play any sports in school.  This WAS my extracurricular activity, just like any other kid.  I just picked something that would benefit me more in the long run.”

“Hahahaha … fair enough.  So … much to your mother’s _dismay_ , that is?”

“Yeah, she … she wanted me to do something less … she probably would have rather I played an instrument, I think.”

Ephraim had finished preparing his equipment, and now he paused and looked her directly in the eyes … enough of this banter.

“Is that because she was worried that you’d get hurt?”

She shrugged, “Moms always worry, right?”

“Is it because she _knew_ that you would get hurt?”

Now she stared at the Doctor, silent.

“Because she _knew_ that you would **_break_**?”

Dawn’s gaze shifted down, “I don’t know what you are implying.”

“Sure you do.”

“Doc–”

“ _Listen_ … don’t patronize me … you know math … you know geolocation … I know _this_ …. i know the human body.  And I know you aren’t anemic or have an iron deficiency.”

She looked back up to his face now, silent.

“Your stature, your eyes … and now” he reached for her arm and she pulled it back, “your arm.”  Ephraim didn’t mention that a slow metabolism also played a roll.  She was healthy, but curvy nonetheless.  None of the symptoms damning on their own … but all together.  The genetic condition was obvious to him now, even if it was clear that her penetrance was quite low.

“It’s not _broken_.”

“Q was pretty sure he broke it.  There was no doubt.”

“He didn’t break anything.  I landed poorly on it … and … I know better.  It’s not broken.  Even if it’s a hairline … It’ll be back to normal in a few days.  How did you even notice that?  You are a _pathologist_.”

Ephraim laughed, “And you are a mathematician who just downed a seasoned boxer.”

She smiled, “It will _never_ happen again. I played that card.  I’ll never get the upper hand on Gus again.”  She smiled at the thought though.  He had a nice … _smile_ , after all.

Ephraim waived at her shirt now and motioned for her to turn around so he could start the stitch and as she pulled up the shirt the Doctor was surprised, “Holy smokes, you really do heal fast.”  Her cut looked _phenomenal_ , “I think we’ll be able to remove the stitches in a couple of days.”

The thought of having those damn things out of her back sent ripples of joy through her entire being.  Those fucking things itched INCESSANTLY.

“Can they come out now???”

Ephraim smiled, “Let’s say … day after tomorrow at the earliest, alright?”

She nodded eagerly.

Ephraim had the stitch done quickly.  He reached for her arm as she turned back around and she didn’t fight him this time.  He was being almost as defiant as her, and her reluctance didn’t matter anymore.  He moved the arm back and forth, tugged at her elbow and moved her wrist.  There was no pain or flinching and he shrugged.  “Don’t put a lot of weight on it then, I guess.  Seems alright to me.”

Before releasing her arm form his grip, he noted the small red mark on her wrist and decided to use the opportunity to examine it closer.  He’d noticed she rubbed it when she was nervous or deep in thought, “Is this a burn?”

She seemed confused by the question … because it obviously wasn’t.  It was a strawberry colored, one inch, almost square in shape birthmark.  It had no texture, only color and it existed about two inches down from her wrist.

“Its just a birthmark, Doc.”  People always assumed it was a burn of some kind.

“Ok ok ok, I just wanted to make sure … Scientific curiosity.  [Telangiectatic nevus](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birthmark) usually appear on the face somewhere … I’ve never seen one on the wrist.  They usually go away.”

“Telangeee– what now?”

Eph laughed, “How about ‘Stork bite’?”

She scrunched up her face at this, “I was always told it was called a ‘Salmon Patch’ … ‘Stork Bite’ sounds … gross.”

The Doctor laughed yet again and offered up a better name, “Its also called an ‘Angel’s Kiss’”  He released her arm and she seemed pleased with the last name given.

She nodded, “Yeah, I like that name better.”

And she wasn’t lying.  Her arm was already feeling better.  She was used to this, after all.  “When you said someone like me … that’s what you meant?  Don’t … tell anyone, please.  I don’t have it as bad as _others_ , the penetrance is low.  I don’t need people judging me or my capabilities.  I don’t need anyone to think I’m _weak_.  I’ve never broken outright … Nothing has ever actually needed to be set … not like … my _brother_ … “ she paused, sadness thick in her voice … “I’m _careful_.  I’m not as _fragile_ as you think.”  She fucking hated that word.

He smiled and he really had to know at this point, “Your secret is safe with me … but … with how you are … I’m kinda with your mom here … why would you pick _fighting_?  Why do something so _dangerous_?”

She had considered not answering the question at all, but she moved to the door and turned around before she left, “Because … I was _told_ I was weak for as long as I could remember …  I needed to _guarantee_ that I wasn’t.  I needed to _ensure_ that I never would be.”

And she was gone.  Ephraim picked up everything that he had brought into the room and turned to leave when he found the Born standing in the doorway.

Quinlan wasn’t asking … Ephraim knew it was a demand, “Penetrance of what **_exactly_** , **DOCTOR**?”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan sat on the edge of his bed and processed the information that the Doctor had begrudgingly revealed to him.  Initially, the Doctor had tried to refuse the disclosure, but he was not in the mood to be denied this information.  The Doctor, being highly intelligent, and could read that it was in his best interest to share what the Born _wished_ to know.

He had listened to the conversation from his room, unintentionally … although somewhat intentionally.  He hated how nothing precise was ever stated and that he had to pull the information out of the Doctor after she retreated down stairs.

But now he soaked in the reality of it all.  At first Goodweather had stated Latin, that the Born translated to roughly to “[unfinished bone origin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osteogenesis_imperfecta)”.  He had explained it further and more succinctly as a genetic condition which caused “brittle bones”.  This is what had caused the blue tint in the whites of her eyes in addition to other things …  and yes, he remembered noticing that, even back in that damned concrete room.

At first, he did not fully believe him.  What he had seen from her thus far, was nothing _fragile_ by any means.  He was continually surprised by her, but seeing the impact of a simple fall causing the crack, he could accept it.  He was used to _all_ humans being fragile in comparison … but she was even more so?

He had already decided what he **_wanted_** to do next during his short walk, even before he learned this extra bit of stolen _information_.  This _actually_ made convincing himself of his next action all that easier.  It made her less of a threat, right?  Even now, he knew it was still dangerous to underestimate her.

On his walk, he had dissected what had happened and he knew that it wasn’t actually his act that had incensed her so.  It wasn’t _that_ act, when he had rashly attacked her in that room … specifically … yes, that act had caused _what_ she was angry about, but it wasn’t the direct cause of the anger.  He knew why she was angry; he had seen it in her face when she had lashed out, after hearing her conversation with the Doctor, he was even more sure now.

He had taken something away from her that night.  Something that she cherished … something sacred … something that she needed to keep herself whole, to keep herself strong.  He needed the same.  _Control_.  And she knew when he was around, it was a constant reminder of her complete lack of it.

She might be able to forgive his action, but she would always feel weak around him and in her mind, he knew that was unacceptable for her.  He did not wish to make her feel weak, never again.

So he had resigned to give that control back to her.  Simple.  As much as his inner survivor fought him on this, something _stronger_ shoved it aside.

He did something now that he had never done before … he would do what she had expected of him when they first met.  He would demonstrate _trust_. 

 He made his way down the stairs and found her at her workstation … She avoided eye contact, as always, and he stood until she acknowledged him.  It felt like eons, even to him, but he is a patient man.

“Yes?”

He waved an arm towards the direction of the gym, “May we speak?”

“I’m really busy right now Quintus”  she always used his first given name … mostly because he had asked her not to.

“Please?”

His look of determination was clear and she stood slowly, unsure of where he wanted to take her.  She was no longer angry, but more embarrassed at how she had acted.

He led the way to the garage again, and opened the door for her, closing it behind them after she slipped through.  He entered the makeshift ring and waved a hand for her to join him.

She hesitated now … and he spoke, “Humor me … _please_.”

Her mannerisms were meek now, he didn’t like the look of her being so defeated and she entered the ring slowly, folding her arms across her chest.  She was not interested in sparring with him again, that much was clear.

He stepped forward, reducing the gap between them and being almost uncomfortably close to her.  Being this close reminded him of that night again.  She could feel the radiant strigoi heat that emanated from his body at this range.  She hadn’t noticed the heat before now.  Generally she had been distracted with trying to fight him when she had been this close previously.

He reached a hand out, asking for hers in return.  Her look of confusion was almost priceless to him now and she reluctantly gave it to him.

She was actually surprised when he placed an object into her palm.  He had been hiding it until this very instance, and she looked down at it.  It was a large Bowie knife, most likely discovered in Gus’ weapon rack.  Its size and weight were almost exactly the same as her previous gem.

She gripped it hard, still not sure where he was going to go with this.  She knew how to use it, she’d successfully stabbed him with it, after all.  Hmm … _successfully_?

Now he grabbed her wrist and stepped even closer.  This was the same distance they had been that night, and he released her wrist and grabbed the blade in his fingers, placing it up to the same place that she had hilted it into him.

“ _THIS_.” and he pulled it sharply so the point slightly dug into his vest, “This is how you _annoy_ me.”

And now this annoyed her … _great, another fucking lecture_.  She rolled her eyes and started to step away.  She wasn’t interested in him _correcting_ her again.

But he stepped forward and closed the distance that she had caused, not releasing his grip on the steel.  Then, he took the blade and moved it up two ribs.

“ _THIS_.” and he pulled it sharply so the point slightly dug into his vest, “This is how you _incapacitate_ me.”

The realization of what this _lesson_ actually was started to dawn on her.  She had been staring at the blade, but now slowly shifted her gaze up to his face.  This movement was slow, and while her face was tracing his shirt up to his swirls, he moved the blade back two inches and tilted it to a slight 45 degree angle up.

“ _THIS_.” and he pulled it sharply so the point slightly dug into his vest, “This is how you _kill_ me.”

And finally … for the first time since the fight in the side yard, she looked up and directly into the _dhampir’s cold blue eyes_ again and he stared back.  She found them striking.

“Now … “ he stepped back, releasing the blade and waving to the center of the ring, “May we begin?”


	45. Interlude 4 - The Pull of Rome

##  The Pull of Rome 

> _Guess life is long_
> 
> _When soaked in sadness_
> 
> _On borrowed time_
> 
> _From Mr Madness_
> 
> _And so it goes_
> 
> _A choking rose back_
> 
> _To be reborn_
> 
> _I want to hold you like you’re mine_
> 
> _You’re gone but you’re on my mind_
> 
> _I’m lost but I don’t know why_

 

The woman sat in the coffee shop, silently watching the bustling of the ancient European city all around her.  The coffee was amazing and so was the city.  It had been everything that she thought it might be, and actually even more.  She had dreamt of Rome for as long as she could remember.

The Colosseum and Michelangelo’s frescoes in the Sistine Chapel had been amongst her favorites.  Walking through the former, knowing that over 400,000 people died within its walls.  It was eerie and fascinating.  If she ever _truly_ thought she was indeed psychic, she surely would have felt something within _those_ walls, right?  But she felt nothing at all.  It was cold and empty.

The same could not be said of the cafe though; it had a kind of electricity that she felt fascinated by.  She’d discovered it on her second day, and had come back every day since.  She blamed the phenomenal coffee … although, it’s _Italy_ … nearly every place had the best coffee that she’d ever had in her life.  No no, she was convinced … _this_ cafe was special though.  She could _feel_ it.  It was almost … _safe_ here.

The cell phone that she had shoved into her daypack started to vibrate … yet again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake” she mumbled as she removed the phone and looked at the familiar number on the screen, “these people seriously need to give up.”  She shoved the phone back into her bag.  Nope. Nope. Nope.  This is the last day of her ‘vacation’ and she wasn’t going to be deterred from enjoying every single last bit of it … and in the case of this cafe … every last drop.

She’d been in Europe for nearly two months now.  It had been trip that she’d always wanted to take, albeit, she never thought she would be taking it _alone_.  When they had planned it, they had planned it together …  But now, this was her ‘liberation’ trip, as her bestie Ellie had put it.

She’d collapsed inside of herself after he left.  She’d quit her job and she sat at home, burning through all of her savings, before Ellie had showed up.  Being this weak, this lost … this vulnerable, was so unlike her.  She was the strongest person that Ellie knew, and so she’d shown up to shake her awake.

“This is unacceptable … especially for _you_.  You are going on this trip.  You’ve been planning this thing for years and you will **_NOT_** let him take that away from you.”  She was normally the strong one, the one full of courage and wisdom … she was the one that had lifted Ellie up year after year after year, since middle school.

But Ellie had packed her bags for her, while she sat on the couch, watched another romantic comedy, ate something terrible and cried.  She had begged Ellie to come, but she knew she needed to go alone.   She needed this time to find redefinition, to be reborn.  She couldn’t be afraid to go alone, because she needed to get used to that concept again, for the first time in over ten years.  Something inside her told her that she needed to be _hardened_ to it again.

Alone.

She was surprised by her best friend’s vigilance.

“You aren’t gonna let this fucker ruin anything else in your life.”

“That’s not really fair … I don’t begrudge him–”

“That … is TOTAL bullshit.  BULL. SHIT.”

She had convinced herself that it was, in the end, entirely her fault … it was, wasn’t it?  She was deficient in some way … she was …

“We wanted different things out of life.”

“You were clear about not wanting kids from the beginning and he was totally cool with that too.”

“People _change_ … He thought I would _change_.”

“You think he thought he could change **_you_**?  I could have told him that wasn’t going to happen.  I learned that almost 20 years ago.”

“Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me then,” and the tears would start … again.

“BULL. SHIT.  Regardless of what he wants out of life, he fucked her in _YOUR_ bed.  He is a fucking coward and a _pig_.”

And he had … it was true.  She had come home early to surprise him … “surprise”.  Everyone had been quite surprised that day.  She saw the recurring image in her mind … often.  That was six months ago though, but last week was when the paperwork was finalized.  She had actually kept it together remarkably well, until she saw them in the parking lot of the courthouse, after it was all done.

That _dark haired woman_ was beautiful, Asian, tall and quite possibly everything she was not, but she already knew all of that … she remembered her all too well.  But _she_ was something else that she had not expected.  She had gotten out of their new car to hug him …  she was _quite_ pregnant … and obviously more than six months.  And that was when she had lost any amount of control that she had been exacting on the situation.

But Ellie’s words couldn’t penetrate.  She was caught in a spiral of self doubt and self hate.  No matter what her best friend said, she had failed at _this_.  She had failed _him_.  She had failed _herself_.

“You have always wanted to go to _Rome_ … You are going and you are going to fucking love it.  And you are going to enjoy yourself.  And … you are going to find some super ultra sexy _Italian_ man and get laid.”

Both of the formers happened … and it had been amazing.  The latter did not, and she had no intention of heading down that road again … _ever_.  She _promised_ herself.  She didn’t need a man, even for just that _act_ itself.  It was fine … she was fine.  She was whole again, albeit damaged and unconfident, but sane and together.  Hardened and guarded.  Good.

It was supposed to be her last day of a long trip, her last day in the city that was the reason behind the entire journey.  She knew, even on her first day in the city, she had actually considered not leaving at all.

The plane ticket was booked, yes, but what would happen if she just didn’t show up?  She knew, at the very least, that she could stay for a bit longer and now she deeply considered the consequences of what that might mean.  There were _none_.  If she stayed … what if she just stayed?

The phone rang … again.  This was the third day in a row and it was now getting extremely annoying.  Now the _beautiful_ Italian woman who sat at the table to her right was annoyed too.

“Answer it or turn it off!” she huffed at the the American in a thick accent.   _Beautiful_ … but she was realizing that most, if not all, Italian women were _beautiful_.  That was definitely a reason to not stay, she did NOT feel like she fit in.  

“Sorry, sorry,” she stumbled … not even trying to attempt any Italian.  She was … obviously … American, so why even bother?

Now she pulled the phone out and looked at the all too familiar number on the screen.  She flicked the call to accept, “Hello?”

“Hello.  I was hoping to speak with Mrs. Maxwell?”  The voice was not one with which she was familiar.  It wasn’t the recruiter who had, quite literally, been hounding her.  This was an older man’s voice.  His voice was confident, if nothing else.

“Its actually Ms. now.  But, this is she.”

“Ms. Maxwell,” there was no hesitation in his delivery, “I believe that you have been in contact with _my_ HR department regarding a job offer that we would like to extend to you.”

The words were cleverly executed and not entirely true.  There was no job offer, per se, but a promise of an offer if she were to ‘stop by’ for a quick interview at their corporate offices.  ‘Stop by’ was the wording the recruiter had used, for a job that she never applied to, or had even heard of.

“ _Your_ HR department?” she was annoyed, and she had been curt and down right mean to the recruiter the last time she had spoken with them, so why hold back now, “Do you own _that_ department?  Mister?”

“Actually I do own that department.  I actually own all the _departments_ , Ms. Maxwell. My name is Eldritch Palmer and I am the Chairman of Stoneheart Group.”  she could literally HEAR the smugness in his voice.  She knew he was smiling.  She also knew this was supposed to have some kind of impact on her … _huh_.

“Mr. Palmer himself?” she actually had no idea who the owner of Stoneheart was … _meh_ , “I’m really sorry for any misunderstanding, but I was pretty clear with the last person.  I’m not really considering anything new right now.”

“ _Ms. Maxwell,_ I’m not sure you understand the kind of offer that we are willing to make.  All that I am asking is that you stop in and we can just discuss it in person … quickly.”

“Do you normally make these types of calls, Mr. Palmer?  This honestly seems a little out of context for the job description of a chairman.”  She had learned to be paranoid, her employer actually required it.

“ _Ms. Maxwell_ , I actually do not.  But I find your _skills_ ” … and she heard some papers being shifted around in the background … “extremely necessary right now, and I would be remiss if we lost out on an exceptional candidate, such as yourself.”  Ah, he was a good negotiator, now he was trying to prop her up for manipulation.  Yes, she was exceptional, but this was still _odd_.

“ _Mr. Palmer,_ I’m not even sure where you got my name.  Also, I hope your recruiter told you that I’m not even in the States right now and I might not be for _some time_.”

“My recruiter tells me that you are considering staying in Rome for an indeterminant amount of time?”

She hesitated now … it seemed like a good enough reason of any that she had come up with so far, “Uh huh.”

“What would it take for you to consider our offer?”

“What would it take?”

“Yes, _Ms. Maxwell_ … What would it take?”

She was now even more confused.  This company was being very aggressive now, “I’m not sure I follow what you mean, _Mr. Palmer._   I am sure there are other candidates that you can vet.  I can see about letting you know when … if … I come back to the States.  Maybe in a few months we can talk about this again?”

Now the old man sighed heavily, “Ms. Maxwell, how does double your last salary sound?  And you will be given a team of engineers that you can direct as you see fit.”

She blinked at this.  He had no idea how much she had been making before, and she had even thought what she made before was too much, “I’m more of an architect than a leader.  That’s not really my bag.  Mr. Palmer, I really am flattered … I’m just not at a point right now that I need to be jumping into another job.  I hope that you can understand.”

She was fighting this idea and that voice that she heard so very rarely was telling her to decline.  Something is _wrong_ with this … something is … off …

But Mr. Palmer was obviously set on convincing the woman, “Do you often have a hard time accepting when something good is happening to you?”

This was such a strange concept to her … her immediate reaction was to deny it, but she stopped.  Was he right?  Damn, he was good.  Her silence was his cue to continue.

“ _Ms. Maxwell_ “ the repetition and inflection that he was putting on her name had started to annoy her now, “I would like to make an offer to you.  I would like to make it in person.  I would like propose that we fly you to New York, and if you don’t find the offer to your liking, then I will have you flown _back_ to Rome … immediately.”

She considered this now.  She couldn’t live on her savings forever … she wasn’t rich by any means.  She’d come from a very poor family and anything that she had now, she’d earned.  She’d have to rejoin the world of the working … and, would it really hurt to hear his offer?

“ _Ms. Maxwell_??”  He pushed.

Now it was her turn to sigh, “Alright … on one condition …“ She might as well make sure she would be comfortable, “Make it a direct flight … “ she hesitated … should she really demand anything??  Fuck it … “And first class.”

Palmer laughed now, “I can promise it is already first class.  However the flight has already been booked and there will be a single stop, I’m afraid.  I believe there may be a layover in Berlin, I’m afraid.”

“Wait … it’s _already_ booked?”

“You’ll have to forgive my over confidence in pre-booking your travel, _Ms. Maxwell._  I usually get what I want.  I will have my assistant contact you in email containing the details.  I look forward to meeting you … in _person_.”

 

* * *

 

The old man shifted with the lab report that he had been staring at while he had spoken to the defiant woman on the phone.  He now put the report back into a manilla envelope that held all the other information that he had obtained on the woman to date: copies of birth certificate, driver’s license, passport, tax returns, resume and other labs that had been run on the woman’s ‘heritage test’ DNA test.

It had been one of the ventures that the Master had requested Eldritch to start, years and years ago.  This in particular had been very important to the Ancient.  It had been the basis for their partnership.  Although Eldritch hated being left in the dark, without any direction other than being told to forward on anything ‘interesting’, he was forced to comply.

He closed the manila envelope and handed it to the German who was standing patiently by his desk, listening to the entire conversation.

“It is done.  She will be ‘OUT of _Rome_ ’, per your instruction, and in New York in less than 24 hours.”

The German smiled as he took the envelope, “Thank you, Eldritch.  You have been most useful in this … _situation_.”

Eldritch pushed now … this was no way to run a partnership, “May I ask why it was so important that we get her ‘OUT of _Rome_ ’.  Could the Master not simply have taken her there?”

“This is not something that you need to be concerned with, Eldritch.  The Americas offer us more … room to stretch.  There are less … _inherited_ dangers here.”  His accent was thick, but his words and grammar were always perfect, so Eldritch was slightly curious at his choice of wording … Surely he meant ‘ _inherent_ dangers’?

“Very well, Mr. Eichhorst.  She will be on the flight.”

“It is the same as was discussed?”

Eldritch answered, “Yes, Regis Air …. “ he looked at the computer screen to verify the number before proceeding, “Flight 753.”

 

* * *

 

The call was over and she sat there for a moment … wondering how the old man had managed to one up her almost legendary degree of defiance.  Shit.

The email came in and she bolted up.  The flight was going to leave when!?!  SHIT.  She needed to get back to the hostel and pack.  She hurried now, shoving as much into her bag as quickly as possible and picked up the journal in her hands that she had been writing in and storing all of her trip receipts.

She quickly crossed the street to the front of an impressively old building that had been converted to residential units.  Expensive, by the looks, they had security and doormen and everything.  She’d _often_ mused at it from the cafe … Fancy.

But at this point in time, she was frazzled and stared down at her phone, looking at the email while she walked quickly.  The sudden gust of wind was not only unexpected for a completely calm day, it was was also disastrous.  The receipts that were barely holding into place in her journal went flying into the wind.

“FUCK ME!” and she flung her body to the ground, trying to trap what few of them she could before they blew across the street.

She would think back on this moment … on _this_ very instant.  If she had not stopped to pick up her mess, she might have made it to the airport on time.  If she had not dallied _here_ , at _this_ moment, she might have actually made her first flight out of Rome and therefore her connecting flight in Berlin.

What she did _not_ know was that if she had continued on her current path, due to her distracted state, she would have run smack into the man who was exiting the fancy flats and making his way across the sidewalk to a black car, which had its back door already opened, awaiting his arrival.

If she had continued on her original course, she would have physically bumped into the large man that was attempting to dart out of the public eye.

But she didn’t and while she was hastily picking up the papers that now littered the sidewalk, the man, who was dressed all in black, with a long coat and a hood conspicuously pulled over his head, who only left the confines of his home on one _very special day_ each year … entered the car and the doorman closed it behind him.

And Fate breathed a loud sigh of relief and smiled … that was almost _too_ close.

_“ …. not yet.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  [ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/154044414018)  
> 
>
>> **[Interlude - The Pull of Rome](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/153090651402/interlude-4-the-pull-of-rome) // [A Savage Inconvenience](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/) by [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA)**
>>
>>> _[…] If she had continued on her original course, she would have physically bumped into the large man that was attempting to dart out of the public eye._
>>> 
>>> _But she didn’t and while she was hastily picking up the papers that now littered the sidewalk, the man, who was dressed all in black, with a long coat and a hood conspicuously pulled over his head, who only left the confines of his home on one very special day each year … entered the car and the doorman closed it behind him._
>>> 
>>> _And Fate breathed a loud sigh of relief and smiled … that was almost too close._
>>> 
>>> _**“ …. not yet.”** _


	46. 8.1 - Control

She _hated_ it … well … at first at least, but not for the reason she thought.  He wasn’t _just_ a good teacher, she knew he was the best teacher she’d ever had … and she _hated_ it … at first.  Her hate had melted away slowly over the course of the first lesson.  She would tell herself, over and over again, that he was only AS GOOD AS Mr. Parker, but she knew that wasn’t true.  All of those years, starting and quitting schools and eventually giving up, because no one would ever be as good as her first teacher, she relished in whatever _this_ was.

That hour or two, before anyone else would wake up.  That hour or two that they would normally spend in awkward silence became the time that he would train her.  She wasn’t sure why he would even bother, but she never questioned it.  Maybe he was bored?  Maybe he was trying to repay her?  It didn’t matter, something that she had lost a long time ago was restored and on some fundamental level, she had forgiven him for whatever transgression had occurred.  She thought it not possible, but he had restored her trust.  Entirely.   _Utterly_.

And now, on their second day of whatever _this_ was, he had gone straight into sword techniques.

“Every move in _Aikido_ can be augmented to use with a sword.”

She already knew this, but she offered no words to halt his instruction or detract from anything he said.  She realized after the first day, that she simply loved to _hear_ him talk, his voice and his accent.  As a student, she had no plans to disrupt anything that he might be able to impart on her, simply because she might want to _impress_ him with her own knowledge.  There is a discipline that must be followed, between student and instructor, one that she abided by.  This would be the only time though, that she would offer nothing in defiance or counter … only in this setting … in this instruction.

He had brought his sword into the ring and offered it to her to hold.  She’d been reluctant to grab the bone handle, and once he saw this reluctance, he firmly took her hand and placed the sword in it, closing her fingers around its handle.  Everything that he did was _firm_ but _gentle_.

She hated that he was so much taller and so much stronger.  She felt like a child standing next to him, but he played along with the techniques well, and he would respond to her strikes as he should … as if he were _human_ , that is.  When he told her to strike him, to _always_ do so with her full strength, it actually took her a while to succumb to this request.  All of those years of maintaining control were hard to unlearn, but ultimately beneficial.

“You will not hurt me … much to your _dismay_ , I am sure”

He would rarely smile, but she caught one occasionally and definitely after he said _this_ statement.  She knew that he said things to drive her motivation as well as intentionally antagonize or challenge her when he thought she was not putting in as much effort as he wanted.  If it worked too well, then he would lecture her on control of anger.

 _Ass_.

He was brutal in his critique of _everything_ she did, but that was alright.  She already accepted that he was better at this than she could ever be … he was born to it.

On the first day, his vest would catch on her cotton shirt, so he had removed it and it was already removed when she came into the garage this morning as well.  She was initially surprised that she actually found it a bit distracting; his undershirt was … well … a little tight … and his body was …. well … a little tight as well.  It caused her to blush incredibly when he had first removed it.

She had remembered back to when she removed it the first time at the factory to remove the bullets, but it was different back then.  She actually hadn’t remembered much about him, his voice, his smell, his body, aside from his fascinating facial structure and swirls.  But now … now it was _distracting_.

 ** _Distracting_**!?!?  Yes, and enough for him to call her out on not hearing his last command.   _Shit_.

“Sorry … sorry.”  She had said and carried on.  Knowing his senses, she immediately became even more embarrassed that he likely noticed her newly flushed state, which in turn would make her even more flushed, like a stupid _vicious_ cycle.  She eventually asked for a break, simply to gain her composure and she was successful in pushing it entirely out of her mind again.  Well … until he would want to try a grappling technique and he would wrap his large, warm arms around her entirely.   _Ugh_ .. this … this was _NOT_ a problem that she had had with Mr. Parker.

Could he tell?  No, she didn’t think so.  If he could, he gave away no tells … but then again Quintus never did.

She came to terms with it as she repeated to herself that he was … _grotesque_ , right?  She was struggling to hold onto that viewpoint though and every day it became more distant a thought.

His skin and veins were _eerily_ translucent, showing the color of his underlying strigoi blood.  It was cold and white.

> … but the veins danced around each other, making the stripes down his forehead and across his cheeks seem playfully painted on.  She mused that they looked like warpaint and this was fitting, because he was indeed a warrior.

His ears were inhumanly pointed and sharp, giving him the immediate look of a predator.

> … but they were smaller and more delicate than the other strigoi’s and she found it more similar to what she would equate to a high _elf_ of some kind.

His cold and intimidating steel blue eyes were piercing and almost hawk like in their ratio of iris to pupil.

> … but she noticed that this was actually the only part of his visible body with any hair at all.  And his lashes were delicate.

His skin, devoid of all hair and pigmentation, looked like cold marble.

> … but his skin was surprisingly soft to the touch and actually not cold at all.  It was warm enough to sometimes make her skin sweat when he was close for an extended time.

His teeth were discolored and shaped to enable him to rend and tear flesh with ease.

> … but she only saw his teeth when he grinned or smirked and that usually accompanied when he was feeling more at ease.  She liked him at ease.

He was less monstrous as the days went on and she was finding him more marvelous than frightening … or even grotesque anymore.

But his swirls had never seemed anything but fascinating to her.  She learned through their continuing contact that they were actually quite sensitive.  At one point in time, she attempted to grip him by the neck and he flinched as her fingers brushed them, as if she had tickled him furiously.  There was no smile, but his stinger rattled suddenly and loudly.  He grabbed her hand quickly and took a moment to compose himself after the contact.  He had apologized and told her to continue, he would be expecting it _this_ time.  At least it explained why his clothing conveniently exposed the swirls; it was likely that any clothing rubbing against them was uncomfortable as well.

Now he had handed her _his_ sword.  She’d never seen anyone else wield it, so she was sad that she had hesitated initially.  But … in all honesty … it was a human bone, wasn’t it?  He had taken her hand in his, firm and confident.  He had closed her grip over the handle.  When he had released the sword, it was heavier than she had expected and she was embarrassed that her arm wavered.  He smiled.

It smelled of a metallic oil.  It was a smell that she had noticed Quintus himself also carried, in addition to a soft leather scent that she assumed had rubbed off from his harness.  She realized she was noticing many things that she had simply refused to before.

The sword was impressive, albeit creepy.  He kept it in perfect shape, and now he started with the sword lessons.

She asked a question.  She rarely spoke during this time but she felt compelled, “Whose bone is it?”  Her question would go completely unanswered.

“You are _decent_ with a bo but they are almost useless against a stri–” Quinlan cut his sentence short and cocked his head to the left, looking toward the ceiling.  “Hmm … we shall continue this tomorrow.”  Once anyone else began to awaken, he would halt the lesson.  Neither of them had made any mention of this to anyone else and it seemed like he wanted to keep it that way, so she abided.

They would go back to the living area and pretend as if they doing what they were expected.  She wondered if he was embarrassed at teaching her or if he simply didn’t want to have to teach the others.  She didn’t ask.  She did want to know the reason, but she also didn’t want it to stop.  This was something that she had missed dearly.

 

* * *

 

The Doctor had drank too much … again.  Dutch helped him stagger up the stairs before they retired for the night, and now Dawn was alone, sitting on the couch.  Alone and disappointed.  Today was the day when those damned things were going to come out of her back, and Ephraim had started drinking earlier than usual … if that was even possible.

She didn’t mention it because it was probably best if he didn’t poke at her back with scissors in his state, even if he is a high functioning drunk.  The house was completely silent and the lights were off, but she was invigorated with thoughts of those strings sticking in her back.

GOD DAMNIT.  She’d been anticipating this _all_ day.

Nope, she’d had _enough_ … from the itching to the bra rubbing against them to them sticking out of her shirt and catching on the couch cushion, she had had enough.  Now she was determined to remove them herself.  In hindsight, this was a bad idea.  It was almost like that fucker with the knife had cut her in the one spot on her body her small arms wouldn’t be able to reach.

She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, her back to it, with a pair of large scissors, attempting to attack the top stitch … the one that she could reach easiest.  She struggled at coming at it from the top … from the bottom … from the side.  At one point, she thought she had it, and she clipped and pulled at the same time, which simply tore half of the stitch out and then it started to bleed.

Oh for fucks sake …  Ok, FINE.   _Tomorrow_.  She patted at the wound until it looked like she had stopped the brief bleeding and she put her shirt back on.   _Fuck_.

She was still fumbling with the scissors when she opened the door and the presence of Quinlan almost literally scared the shit out of her.  The small scream that emanated from her reminded her more of Dutch’s voice than her own.

The scissors came up in more of a defensive manner rather than aggressive, but he put his hand up in a surrendering motion.  That was fair enough … she was known for stabbing, after all.

“Is everything _alright_?”

Her eyes grew wide, “Yes.  Why?  I thought you went to sleep?”

He shifted now and moved out of her way so that she could continue her path back to the living area, “Well … yes … I don’t have to sleep much.  There was much commotion and …”

“And?” she pushed.

“ … blood.  I just wanted to make sure everything was _alright_.”  He followed, close behind her.  He could smell the blood that emanated from under her shirt even now.

“It’s fine … I was just being dumb.”

“Being ‘ _dumb_ ’?  With … _scissors_?”

She turned to look at him as she crossed over to the couch.  He was determined to know.

“I … “ she shook her head now, “I was just trying to take them out.  Eph said he would do it today, and well … yeah … he pulled an _Eph_ instead.”

He stared at her for a moment and she attempted to free him of any concern that might be keeping him there, “It’s alright … I’ll be patient.  You can go back to bed now …”

“If they bother you, then I can remove them … the _stitches_ … if you would permit me.”

She was not expecting _that_ offer and she laughed at it now at nearly full volume, “Hahaha, no no no, that’s totally not what I was implying.  I’ll let the Doc do it tomorrow.”

His brow furrowed as he took immediate offense to her laughter and she saw the smallest bit of hurt spread across his face, “I assure you, I’ve given and removed more stitches than the Doctor _ever_ will.”

She had wanted to refuse again, but she honestly didn’t want to offend him … again.  He’d been nothing but kind to her, showing her trust that she knew he didn’t offer … often … possibly _ever_.  

So she rashly consented and it wasn’t until she was sitting on the couch, about to pull her shirt up that she had remembered her _scars_.  Sudden panic crossed her mind and her heart raced.  She knew he detected it.

“Is there an issue?”

Her mind lurched further … from one question, from one statement to another, too quickly for her to consider an answer to any of them.  

“No, don’t let him see that.  He will _judge_ us.  We are _not_ weak.  Will he … will he _judge_ us?  Will he … _pity_ us?  No, don’t let him _pity_ us.  Doesn’t he already pity us? … us all … for being _human_?  No, don’t let him see that.  Don’t let _him_ see how weak …”  And the last statement to herself caught her off guard, she wasn’t sure why it mattered, but it did, “ … don’t let _him_ see how _ugly_ …”

Her eyes began to water at the thought of it all … and he sensed her immediate tension, even sitting with her back to him now.

“What is wrong?”

And now that darkness spoke to her again … that one that sent chills down her spine every time.  That cold and penetrating sense that had always been there when she _needed_ it … shook her out of this downward spiral of tortuous thought … it ended the debate, concisely and succinctly.

#### 

**“He trusted you … Repay in kind.”**


	47. 8.2 - Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your feedback and kind words. It really does help motivate me to continue, and I appreciate it all so much. Its good to know that I’m not throwing words into the Abyss, never to be seen again. 
> 
> Thank you so much! (◠‿◠✿)ノ

[Howling - Cathedrals](https://open.spotify.com/track/1FcZz1kyVomWBEiT93xcJZ)

> _God, I fell into your spell_
> 
> _On the rite of god we fell_
> 
> _You would flash an eyelid babe_
> 
> _You had me howling_
> 
> _Caught, I swam into your skin_
> 
> _On a night you let me under your sin_
> 
> _You had me howling_

He felt her hesitation and he smelled the tears that welled in her eyes, but she continued … slowly.  She gripped the bottom of her white cotton night shirt and pulled it up and over her head, placing it on the couch arm in front of her.  She was now exposed to him and his possible scrutiny, left in only her sweat pants and bra.

When his eyes saw the first scar peeking under the rising shirt, his body tensed.  And as she continued to lift it away, and he was able to see the extent of the marks.  His mouth became slightly agape.  It was not … this was not … what he was _expecting_.  Now he understood the Doctor’s face that first night when he had seen the same sight.  He remembered hearing the Doctor ask ‘what had happened’, but had dismissed its importance entirely.

Now Quinlan was unable to stop himself from asking, “ _Who_? … … _WHO did this to you_?”  He was immediately focused on the ‘who’ of the act, instead of understanding or asking ‘what happened’.  He was suddenly and completely filled with fire.  This … this was _unacceptable_.

His question went unanswered, just as her question about the femural bone on his sword.  His heart pumping fiercely now, and he demanded again, all calm had left his voice and this time it was a sneer and ending with an intense rattle, “ ** _Who did this to you?_** ”

His question went unanswered again and he saw her begin to reach for her shirt now.  He relented, wishing to halt her retreat, “No, no.   _Please_.  I apologize.”  He would push no further on this subject … at least for _now_.

This site, in general, was not uncommon to Quinlan.  He’d experienced _this_ , watched others experience it and even as a general, had sentenced others to it.   _The Dark Haired Woman_ had even experienced _this_ agonizing part of life.  But Dawn’s scars were _plentiful_ and _deep_ and … _new_.   There was anger behind _these_ strikes and given what he knew of her so far, he assumed was most likely driven by her defiant nature.

But Quinlan knows better than most that those who experience _this_ are affected by one of two ways.  It was most common for their defiance to be snuffed out entirely by the act and they are left broken, dominated, and most importantly … compliant.  Their remaining life will be ruled by fear.

Then, far rarer, there are those that are lit on fire by it; those whose defiance only grows over it, those who become _dangerous_ because of it.  Quinlan was the latter and he _knew_ that Dawn was also.  Though he felt anger, he felt _no pity_ for her over this.  In fact, Quinlan knew that _this_ made her even more _dangerous_.

She had been shielding her chest, though he could not see anything from his vantage point.  Nevertheless now she reached for the large cushion that occupied the end of the couch arm and she wrapped her arms around it tightly, hugging it to her, remaining perfectly silent and still.

Now Quinlan took survey of more than just those pain marks.  He saw her shoulders, covered with those wonderful little spots.  He already knew they trailed down the length of her arms to the start of her fingers and even sometimes even further, but they also trailed down her back a ways before fading away.

He did not hesitate any longer, and he reached out and touched the skin around the first stitch.  This had obviously been the one that she had been attempting to remove herself.  When his fingers first touched her back, she jumped with shock and tensed slightly.

He did not mean for annoyance to escape in his voice, but some did nonetheless, “I have not even _started_ yet.”

“No … sorry … “ she was embarrassed … “it’s just that … I was expecting your fingers to be … **_cold_**.  Sorry … ” and she gripped the pillow tighter now exhaling deeply.

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t meant to jump but Eph’s fingers were ALWAYS cold and she was expecting that now.  In general, she felt very vulnerable at this point in time, and his fingers were warm and they worked flawlessly.  He had been right, he was much better at this than the Doc was.  He removed the dead skin without pain or irritation before he pulled the strings free so that there would be no resistance through her skin.  For someone who specialized in killing, his fingers were gentle and professional.

When he got to the final stitch, the one conspicuously under the bra strap, he unhooked the garment without even asking first.  Her eyes went wide but she said nothing.  She was honestly shocked at this.  Ephraim always asked right before he did it … it was always polite to ask first, right?

Quinlan worked in silence.

 

* * *

 

The last stitch was nearly out and he paused now.  His eyes followed her spots again and then to a large dark, circular mole that was located on her right lower back.  He touched it briefly with his right thumb, although he wasn’t sure why.  Perhaps to test its texture?  He went back to the final stitch, instructing himself to _stay on task_.  It was very unlike him to get distracted … ever.

When the final thread was pulled clean, he paused … _again_.  He moved to grab each end of her undergarment to re-attach the hooks, but he found his right hand touching the biggest of the scars, tracing and following it with the tip of his middle finger, from its start, at the left side of shoulder and across, in a downward angle to her lower right side, ending very close to the raised mole.

He did not realize the strangeness of his action until he heard her heart rate increase slightly, which in turn caused his to to do the same … ever so slightly.  Yet she remained entirely silent.

Something stirred in Quinlan now … something that had been dead for centuries and he was glad she was turned around, because she would have seen the twitch that had _somehow_ escaped him.  It was violent and unrestrained in any way.  He took a deep breath in to steady himself only to breath in her scent deeply instead.  This caused him to remember her smell, _that_ smell which was hiding under the thick soap.

 _Damnation_.

This time he successfully held back the twitch that fought to escape, but was suddenly filled with two concurrent and conflicting urges … conflicting only in their execution, but both likely would culminate in the same result.

First, he fought his desire to place both of his palms flat against her back, slide them on her soft skin around her ribs to the curves that were in front and grasp them tightly, using this to pull her back firmly against his chest from behind.  He knew her breasts were free now, as he’d been the one to release them from the garment and the thought of their current freedom _stirred_ him yet again.

He preferred smaller curves, as per his original Roman upbringing, but now the thought of their volume stirred him even further still.  He remembered crushing them against his chest when he had her in his arms in that concrete cell.  Another twitch was repressed successfully.

**_Oh …_ **

Second, he fought the conflicting desire to simply push her forward from her sitting position and onto the pillow that she was grasping so tightly, grip her round hips as if they were handles and pull her bottom back towards him.

His body tensed and stiffened over the thoughts.

**_Oh gods …_ **

Quinlan maintained control in all aspects of his life, and he _would_ maintain control over _this_.  He was not a child with foolish whims anymore.  This _reaction_ is _unacceptable_.

This was … **_inconvenient_**.

**_No._ **

**_Absolutely not._ **

****

* * *

****

At first, she was too shocked to move.  Her mind raced.

“Is he … is he _touching_ our … scars?”

But by the time she had finished that thought, he seemed to be finished and she heard nothing now.  She gripped the pillow tightly, considering if she should ask him to put her bra back together, or if she should clumsily try the act herself right and quite possibly flash him.  She turned her neck around to ask him if he could do it, but she was surprised to find that he as no longer there at all.

He had ninja’d his way up and off the couch without a movement or a sound, and he was already halfway up the stairs and swiftly disappearing back into his room without so much as a damned word.  She heard the door shut uncharacteristically loudly.

“Huh … ok then.  Well thanks Quintus, I really appreciate it.”  She said this out loud as she fumbled to hook her bra back together.  She continued with both sides of the conversation, knowing full well that he could hear her upstairs.

“Hello Dawn, yes … not a problem.  I am quite pleased to be of assistance, just let me know when you would like me to make you feel uncomfortable again in the future.”  Her attempt to mimic his accent was truly atrocious, but she hoped that the deep sarcasm in her voice was apparent.

She knew she shouldn’t have shown him her scars … not if he was gonna be … _weird_ about them now.  Maybe he was pissed that she didn’t tell him how she received them?

Sometimes that half-breed was just _so_ damn _weird_ …

And coming from **HER** of _all_ people … that meant something.


	48. 8.3 - Control

Much to Dutch’s dismay, the following day started out the same as the previous three: more training.  By this point, Gus had turned into a massive tool when it came to ‘whipping them into shape’.  Given, he only demanded the first hour of the day, she hated every instance of it.  And today was worse than the other days, because today was ** _test run_** day.

Although, she did get to put Fet on his ass this morning, and she quite enjoyed hearing the big man hit the mat.  She was even been tempted to straddle him afterwards, but considering Eph was right there, she rethought the action.  She missed Fet a lot … everyday in fact.

“Eh, how come Dawn doesn’t have to come anymore?” She had asked on the second day and Gus shrugged.  Dawn’s first had been a bit … explosive.  Dutch wasn’t sure she would ever speak to the Born again, but they seemed to get over it immediately.

“If she wants to come, she’s welcome … but I ain’t so sure she needs it like you guys.”  Secretly, Gus was relieved, he wasn’t sure yet how he felt about being taken down by a 120 lb woman.  It had hurt his manhood … just a bit.  When she didn’t show up again, he didn’t actively seek her out to force the issue.

When it was over, she popped back into the living room to make sure Dawn had compiled the code she promised to, but Dutch was witness to them fighting … again.

“Yup … that truce was short lived …” She walked in just in time to hear Abraham attempting to make peace.

“Miss Dawn, it makes sense.  Mr. Quinlan doesn’t sleep like we do.”

Quinlan was holding her pillow, the one that she moved off of the couch during the day, in his pale grip and she was trying to pull it out of his hand.

“I just … I don’t _need_ a room … I’m not _staying_.”  Quinlan would not release the pillow and she tugged on it violently, sadness covering her spotted face.

The Born was obviously annoyed and Dutch now saw a saucier side than she had witnessed before.  He was generally so quiet and almost timid around them, “This is not a request.  I do not wish to sit in the room for hours any longer.  You _will_ take the room.  I can do more good here while everyone sleeps.”

“ _Fine_ … “ and the short woman relinquished her grip on her pillow and pouted, “but I’m really not sure why you are being such an ass today.  You’ve been an **_ass_** all morning.”

“I have grown _impatient_ at the lack of progress that is being made.  We continue to delay on something that will not even _work_.”  Setrakian hadn’t seen this side of the Born except for when it was displayed to the Ancients directly.  He was, indeed, being an _ass_.

Dawn saw Dutch now and she dropped the conversation and the pillow completely.

“Ah good, I’m glad that things are getting back to _normal_ ,” Dutch offered up a very non-humorous joke.  No one laughed and Quinlan departed upstairs to drop off the item in his hand, “How are we looking, love?  Did it compile?”

Dawn smiled and she walked over to the table and turned Dutch’s monitor to her.  Quinlan was coming back down the stairs when she spoke, “Uh-hem … About that PROGRESS, Quintus.”

Fet and Gus were just coming out of the garage when Dutch ran to the monitor, “Holy fuck …. HOLY FUCK … Is that … IS THAT WORKING?!?”

They’d been in there about an hour and Dawn had fixed the segmentation fault in the hacker’s last rushed bit of code and recompiled.  The compilation only took about 5 minutes, so she went ahead and ran the geolocation mapping again.  This run had taken about 40 minutes to complete.

Dutch now stared at the screen, which contained a single map.  The map only showed a small area, centered squarely on the house they were current inhabiting and extending about 4 blocks on either side.  What was the more interesting thing about the map was that it had circular ellipsis drawn in variable places around it.  Smallish ellipsis, roughly the size of the entire house itself, but discernable to a single house nonetheless.  Some were clustered and sprinkled.

The two women high fived and beamed now, as Fet walked over, “What da ya mean its working?  What’s working?!?!”

However, that wasn’t the most interesting thing that the map was showing … _it was working_ … yes.  But both Dawn and Dutch took note of the ellipsis that was located roughly around their house and both turned and looked at the dhampir that was coming the rest of the way down the stairs.

Quinlan looked in confusion as the women eyed him down.

“What?”

 

* * *

 

The Born was quite adamant about it.  He was not like other strigoi and whatever signal they thought they were seeing was likely just an aberration.  He waved his hand and claimed it was likely another ‘ _interference signal_ ’.

So Dawn proposed a solution to the dilemma.  Simple and logical, she was good at that and he complied.

“Alright … this house” and she pointed to two houses down the street, “has no strigoi … go sit in it for an hour and we’ll test this theory.”

That was an hour ago, and now Quinlan stared at the new map and at the new ellipsis in the house where he had just sat, quietly.  “This is not possible … I can feel the Master, but he DOES NOT feel me.  The Ancients informed me as so.”

This was all new to Dawn but it seemed everyone else _had_ been on the same page as Quinlan.  He had already explained it all to them.  But everyone was huddled around the screen and Setrakian spoke first, “Are you sure?”

Dawn pointed at the screen and remained silent.  She only looked back to survey the Born’s increasingly troubled face.

Quinlan blinked now … he had been _sure_.  NO.  He was sure.  The connection that he shared with the Master had been and had always been … one way right?

The Ancients had told him as much.  They had told him that they couldn’t feel anything from him and the implication of that being that neither could the Master.  However, right now Quinlan began to question it all … and it was all so painfully obvious _now_.

The Master was _always_ one step ahead … **_Always_**.

The Master found and took _Ancharia_ away from him.  He had _known_ Quinlan loved her …

The Master found and took his wife and daughter away from him.  He had KNOWN Quinlan loved them deeply …

And that was just the tip of the iceberg … the Master found and took many more people away from Quinlan …

Abraham stepped forward now, as no one knew quite what to say.  The Born was confused and he had said nothing in response to the result, he had become suddenly and painfully internalized.

“Could this mean that he can feel _you_ too, Mr. Quinlan?”

“No, I … I don’t think so … ” he said simply and grabbed his coat, moving for the door and leaving swiftly.  No one but the small woman moved to follow him.  He was intensely upset and she wasn’t sure what had sparked her concern if he wanted to leave, he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Abraham reached out to grab her arm, “I think it’s best to leave him alone … let him process this.”

Dawn looked at the Professor now and he experienced that fire in her eyes.  Her face swam with concern and moderate anger, “Whatever this might mean … no one should have to process anything like _this_ … alone.”

She honestly didn’t know what ‘this’ really was yet, and no one was fessing up anything.  What she did know was that she’d never seen this look on the Born’s face before.  She knew that look because she was sure that was the same look when she had come home early that day and found her husband in their bedroom with that beautiful, tall and slender Dark Haired Woman.

_That feeling when everything that you once believed was false._

Ignoring the Professor entirely and just as swiftly as he had left, she was out the door to follow.

She had dealt with that … alone … no one … not even the Born himself, regardless of how cold and callous he _pretended_ to be, should deal with whatever _this_ was alone …

 

* * *

 

The day was overcast, as it often was and the sidewalk was wet with a recent drizzle.  She had forgotten to grab her coat and she crossed her arms in an attempt to warm herself as she trailed him by a block.  She wanted to catch up to him but he wasn’t making it easy.  This was very much on purpose and she knew.  She needed the time to think anyways … she had no idea what she would say to him anyways.  Her inner dialog had been quiet for days and offered nothing as she pondered.  

About two blocks later, he turned to halt her approach.  His pale face was still a storm of anger and torment.  She could tell that he was not in a mood to be challenged.

“Return to the house.”

She considered abiding by his words.  He was terrifying in his current state, but she persevered and attempted to close the distance between the two as he stood still.

Plus, that was definitely a _command_ and surely he understood by now that she didn’t take commands.  And definitely not from him of all people … well … that is … unless they were training.  He had already been so _cold_ to her today, even during training and she wasn’t in the mood to comply easily.

“I **said** _return to the house_.”

“ _What’s happening_?” she asked as she stopped three feet from him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest and the start of a shiver just beginning to run through her bones.

Quinlan’s defiance might have been legendary, but it paled in comparison to her own and she stood her ground now as he stared down at her with eyes full of fire.

She flinched at the quickness of his action.  Not because she thought he was going to harm her, but she actually didn’t think that he going to touch her.  He grabbed her right shoulder firmly, and forced her body to turn back in the direction of the house and pushed her forcefully in the middle of the back generating enough momentum to cause her to take two steps in that direction to regain her balance.

“ ** _Go_**.”

He was commanding _again_ and she turned around.  In all honesty, she really wasn’t sure how much to push and if he actually needed to be alone, she would relent and comply, even if it was distinctly not in her character.

“What does it mean?”  Her face was full of inquiry and worry and he scoffed at it, turning his back to her now in total frustration.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was angry, but not at the small woman who stood before him.  He was mostly angry at himself as he assessed all of the previous years, and all of the ‘close calls’.  They had all been bullshit; he had been working with a handicap.

He should have seen this.  He should have known.  Had the Ancients been wrong … Had they _lied to_ him?  Was it all a game to them?  Was his life a GAME TO **_THEM_**??

And something happened that rarely occurred.  Quinlan’s anger overwhelmed his control and he snapped.  The last time this had happened, he had threatened an Ancient point blank with his sword.  It had been unwise.  There was no Ancient here to threaten, so instead he swung around and lashed out at the closest thing possible that was NOT the woman that had followed him unwisely.

The car had been parked parallel to the street and he kicked it violently now.  With such force, that the car itself moved at least six inches in the complete opposite direction that its tires were even designed to move.  The door that received the strike bent in and crumpled under his strength.  And he screamed loudly as he thrust the kick furiously.

##  **“RRAAAAAAAH!!!!”**

Not yet finished, he grabbed the door handle and swung the door open violently, ripping it completely from the car and freeing it from its hinged attachment through his pure strength.  He then swung around and threw the door as hard and fast as possible, treating it like a simple frisbee and spinning it into the house that the car was parked in front of.  His scream continued throughout this action.

The woman look a quick step backwards as the door spun directly into the front door of the house, tearing through the door frame and cutting the door itself in half before taking the entire chunk of the wall with it into the interior.  He heard her gasp a curse word, but he didn’t turn back to her.

His fit was temporarily over and he finished screaming but all the anger, frustration and resentment still pumped through his entire being pulsing to his very core.

Now he just took a step forward and collapsed to his knees on the grass and his mind swam catapulting him into further rage.

All of this time _wasted_ … all of this time … had he never had a chance?  If the Master could feel him … had he put _them_ all in danger?

Quinlan’s voice was more of a whispered sneer.  He wasn’t even sure how it escaped, “I’ve never had a chance?”  He rattled now and his rage was about to boil over again when …

He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.  And as he looked up, his face still furious with fire and hatred, he found those dragonfly eyes staring back at him, wide and calm, not revealing even an ounce of fear of him.

_Unwise_ , he thought … until …

His rage abated as he remembered that day so long ago; he remembered that calm and peaceful morning next to that pond and he understood, all at once, the power that the _dragonfly_ really held over him.  And it was a power that she, and she alone, could wield over him with those powerful wide eyes.

Quinlan was utterly diffused and he breathed a heavy cloud of steam out of in the cool air.

He remained still and said nothing as she knelt in front of him, meeting him face to face.  His visage of anger melted into simple and common sadness and she reached up to him.  He flinched at first when she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed gently.

He felt her small arms struggle to get as much of his broad torso in her grasp as possible and he realized that he leaned into her slightly, allowing her to grasp him better.  He felt those curves again, pushing … crushing against his chest, fearlessly and snuggly.

He blinked now … was she … was she actually … _hugging_ him?  Quinlan closed his eyes tightly and breathed in deeply.

 

> _We might never be the same  
>  Maybe I can never be everything you’ll ever need  
>  But I can put my arms around you_

 

With her arms around him, she spoke, and her voice was soft and quiet, speaking into his ear as she pushed the side her head against his.  He had only hear her voice like this that night she had saved his life.

“It’ll be ok.  We will figure this out.  I _promise_.”

Their contact was brief and he moved not a single muscle during it.  He wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or apprehension, but deep inside he knew the reason was far simpler.  He didn’t wish it to stop.  She stood now and reached a hand out to him.

“Come on.  Let’s go.”

He stared at her hand and then met her eyes with his, overwhelmed with embarrassment over his tantrum, “Go where?” He pouted.

He saw her smile; she did so so very rarely and she shoved her hand at him again, as if he would need help standing on his own.

“Figure this out.  Determining vulnerabilities in communication networks …“ she shrugged her shoulders now and her smile grew wider in a gloriously egotistical way.  He’d never seen _this_ smile before and it was adorable.  “It’s kinda what I _do_.”

Quinlan took her offered hand and pretended to use it to aid him in standing.  He intended to only take it as he stood, but they took two steps together while he continued to hold it tightly, before realizing the strangeness of _this_ and he released it.  He had no need for her help, but he didn’t wish to ignore it completely.

It would have been rude.

_Right_?  



	49. 8.4 - Control

The girls had lobbed a number of questions at the Born and he uncharacteristically complied with answering _all_ of them.

What they walked away with was a few truths and a couple of assumptions, the outline of which was scribbled on the whiteboard which Quinlan perused fully now.  It was quite logical and well defined.  He was impressed.

As they understood it there were four communication “ _talents_ ” that strigoi possessed.

 ** _1\. Hearing and Speaking_** , or as Quinlan had always called it, “ _The Bond_ ”.

Between his experience and the Professor’s knowledge of the Lumen, they had narrowed it down to two types: _direct_ or _broadcast_.

 _Direct_.

All Ancients possessed the ability to _speak_ directly with all strigoi, including the Born.  Quinlan, as well as other minions, such as Vaun, were able to _hear_ every Ancient, not just their progenitor.

Just as standard progeny, Quinlan could _hear_ , but not _speak_.

 _Broadcast_.

All Ancients and their minions maintained in constant contact with each other through a continuous [‘ping’](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ping_\(networking_utility\)) as the girls had labelled it.  It was unclear what information was shared with the Ancient during this ‘check in’, but the girls conjectured that it could not be very much due to the size of the signal burst that was being transmitted.

When the Ancients had mentioned to Quinlan that they knew the Master was ‘ _formless_ ’, this seemed to imply that this was also shared between the siblings.

And much to the Born’s dismay, it was now obvious that Quinlan also shared this particular ‘ _talent_ ’.

 ** _2\. Controlling_** , or as Ephraim called it “ _Making a Call_ ”.  This was something that everyone was sure an Ancient could only do to their own progeny.  A point to point control mechanism allowing the progenitor to completely control the subject’s mind and body.

If Ancients could control other’s minions, then they would never have been in harms way when the German brought the army and bomb into their layer.

Quinlan knew he did not possess this weakness, as the Master would have used it by now.

 ** _3\. Incapacitation_** , or as Abraham called it “ _The Scream_ ”.

This was how the Master had downed the SEALS and how he had taken the entire plane without a single passenger out of place.  They assumed that humans were the only ones susceptible to _this_ , as the Ancients would have used it against the Master’s minions in that chamber to save themselves if it had been possible.

 ** _4\. Feeling_** , or as Dawn preferred to call it, “ _Empathic Broadcast_ ”.

This seemed to be broadcast only, anyways.  When an Ancient experienced strong feelings of some kind, this is broadcast to their siblings and their progeny.

Quinlan experienced this, but only with the Master.  He had always felt when the Master was anxious or fearful.  Usually this had occurred when he changed bodies but it also happened on the few occasions that Quinlan had been face to face with the Master.  Even standing right before him, Quinlan had FELT his fear.

He initially refused to believe that he was like the Ancients in this respect until the girls had pointed out that his tantrum against that defenseless car had actually shown up distinctly in Dutch’s signal collections during that time.  This signal had been a great deal stronger than the telepathic ‘ _ping_ ’ he was obviously already emitting.

Unfortunately, it was still unclear if this was motivated by stress or if other emotions were strong enough, might be broadcast as well.

The conversation surrounding this particular topic continued even now, as he stared at the board.

“I only feel him in certain … _situations_ ” Quinlan said.

“What kind of _situations_?” Dawn pressed as she scribbled on her notebook.  He liked how she bit her lower lip as she wrote, concentrating furiously on her lettering before looking back up to him patiently.

“There have been very few times that I have _felt_ him.  It is usually caused by an extreme feeling of some kind.”

The tall woman now, “What kind of _feeling_?”

“I have felt each time he changes bodies.  There is an extreme _anxiety_ that accompanies it.  It is almost _fear_ … due to his exposure.”

“Ok.  Any other emotions?  Happiness or Love??”  The short woman asked as she wrote it down.

“The Master does not feel these things.” Quinlan sneered this response and the short woman blinked now, confused about his anger.

“ _It_ … I mean _he_ … is capable of hate, anger, fear, anxiety … why wouldn’t he be capable of the opposite as well?” Dawn had not intended her question to be insulting but now she felt like she needed to justify it to him due to his sharp reaction.

“Strigoi do not feel these things.” His eyes were piercing now and he could tell that she felt almost uncomfortable with continuing … almost.  Dawn rarely shied away from any danger it seemed.

“The Professor says that there is the “Dear One”?  Doesn’t that imply that they are still affected by and possibly feel _love_?”

Now Setrakian countered.  Quinlan could tell he was highly annoyed by the line of questioning also, “Strigoi are NOT human.  They do not feel the same emotions that _we_ do.”

Quinlan hoped that the small woman would just move past it, but of course she did not and she pressed, yet again, “Are you making an assumption or do you know for sure?”

Setrakian responded, “Do _NOT_ try to _humanize_ these things, my dear.  The Master is NOT capable of anything other than pure and simple _HATRED_.  If you knew him as we do, you would _NOT_ question this.”

Quinlan noticed that Dawn took particular offense to this, and her eyes lit with that dangerous fire.  She was about to start something with the Professor, he could feel it.

“You know what they say about _assumptions_ , don’t you _Professor_.”

“Strigoi are NOT capable of freedom of thought.  Regardless of what the Master himself may or may not be able to feel, his minions, unless they are freed, do not have any capacity for feelings.  They are agents of his will, pure and simple.”  His statement was more of a diffusal than a concession.

“And you are?”  She asked.

He blinked … “I am obviously free of the Master’s leash.  I have freedom of thought.   _He does not control me_.”  His eyes pleaded with her briefly, filled with moderate disappointment and insult.  Could she not tell this of him?

“No no, that’s not what I was asking … I mean … you are capable of … _all … human emotions_?”  He was confused by her own question at first.

“Yes, I am.  Why is _this_ of consequence?”  His disappointment had completely receded and he smiled at her simply now.  It really wasn’t pertinent was it?   _Curious_.

She scribbled it down furiously before answering him,  “Every detail _could_ be important.”  His smile faded.  Fair enough.

Quinlan asked, “But why would it matter _what_ emotions he can feel?”

She shrugged, “Fear and anxiety are linked to stress … I wonder if the transmission is linked to stress as well or all emotions.  Knowing what you transmit to him would be good to figure out, right?”

The Born simply nodded, understanding now what her line of questioning could mean for his future … and also what it might have uncovered in his past.  If he had loved the _Dark Haired Woman_ and her _young one_ strong enough, the Master might have been able to _feel_ it?  If this was true, it was unfortunate and Quinlan’s face fell into a state of distinct sadness.

Now he offered something that he had assumed would be useful, “Also any amount of great pain.”

Quinlan had noticed that Dawn was no longer writing anything down but staring at the Born with some of the widest eyes that he had ever seen from her to date.

He cocked his head to her and she finally spoke in little more than a whisper, “ _You … you can feel his … **pain**_?”  This reaction was curious to Quinlan, but Dutch jumped on the silence.

“Pain proper?? Or is that just because of the fear that might accompany pain?”  Dutch asked.

“No, it is _pain_.  It is not fear that I felt from him when the Professor drove him into the sun, it was pure and agonizing _pain_.”

“Well, that implies that it’s not just emotional then, but can by physical?  So possibly any strong feeling at all then?  That’s super _awkward_.  I’m glad I didn’t have that connection with my dad.”

But Dutch pressed the interview on and Dawn eventually came back to life, “It’s curious … we’ve thought we had linked the signal to the worms directly.  The fact that Q gives off a signal means that perhaps the ability might be attached to something other than the worms themselves, right?”

Ephraim was suddenly a part of the conversation, “No, we determined it was the worm cluster itself inside of the brain that was transmitting and receiving the signal.”

Dutch countered, “If that was the only thing that was true, then Q wouldn’t be able to hear the other Ancients or his Dad, right?  Unless you are implying he has a worm cluster??”

“ **I do not possess the worms.** ”  Frustration.  How many times must he repeat himself?

Ephraim crinkled his nose now, “Are you implying that we missed something?”

Dutch responded, “I’m not implying anything, love.  There is just more here than we thought we understood so far … maybe it–”

Now Quinlan offered something, “Perhaps it is more attached to the _white_ than the _worm_ itself?”

Dutch trudged forward, “Hmmm, maybe … but right now … why does this even matter?  Q can pick up communication from Ancients as well as emotions from his Father?  That really doesn’t help us geolocate the bastard.”

“How were you going to exactly?”  Dawn poked at her benchmate’s plan now.

“How what?” Dutch countered.

“How exactly were you going to GEOLOCATE your Master?  We can locate strigoi and also Quintus, it seems … but what was your plan?  How will we differentiate him from other strigoi?”  Dawn prodded again.

“I’m sure one of those circles will be him.”  Dutch blushed now and pointed to the currently running process on her monitor.  Dawn put her head in her hand.

“Serious?” the hacker shrugged to the mathematician’s question.

The person who answered the question was not who anyone had intended, “We will need to ensure that he is transmitting a signal to differentiate him from other strigoi … any signal can be located so we will need to instigate the transmission in a controlled environment.”  Quinlan had learned much from the two women over the last few days and they stared at him blankly now.  

Did he just??

Ephraim surprised everyone next and spoke up now, “We need to make him make a call.  As long as he is transmitting to the strigoi and it’s receiving, we find the carrier signal and track him.”

Dutch blinked at the Doctor and he smiled, “What?  I sometimes I’m sober enough to listen to what you guys are talking about …”  He was quite pleased with himself and Dutch bounced over to him and rewarded him with a smile and a tight hug.

Dawn fortified his thought with one of her glorious little smiles, “Yes.   _YES_!   ** _Controlling_** has to be a much stronger signal than just the ping.  The amount of data that he would need to transmit and receive for that much control has to be substantial.  If we can force the _red circles_ then we should be able to do it!”

She smiled and her freckles danced around and touched each other where her face scrunched into wrinkles.  Almost everyone else was happy with the result … everyone except for Quinlan.

He sat, quiet and transfixed but no one noticed the look of deep concern that had fallen across his visage.  He stared at the little woman and was reminded of how very little they knew about her … reminded of how very little he knew about her.

How did she know that a symptom of an Ancient’s _control_ was …

**_Red Circles?_ **


	50. 8.5 - Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moar feels!!!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Dawn had retreated very quickly after they had finished the analysis and it seemed like they might have a somewhat valid plan moving forward.  She was now glad that she had her own room.  No more needing to hang out in the bathroom to recharge herself anymore.  She regretted fighting Quinlan on this for as long as she had.  She knew she just did it to be intentionally difficult.

She had taken her notebook with her, so she could peruse it before going to sleep because the room itself was desperately bare and terribly boring.  It had a bed, a door, an empty closet, a window that had been covered and welded shut (thanks Fet) and a large dresser.  No curtains, no art, no blinds.  Simple and very depressing.  What the hell did the Born do up here by himself during all those hours?  She felt guilty about her stubbornness again.

The previous owner had set up a number of rooms like this, she supposed in case the end of the world occurred and he needed to house friends?  Bingo, good job guy, whoever you are … or were.  They’d never mentioned him, so she assumed that meant something bad had happened.  She didn't’ care enough to ask … she couldn’t stay anyways.

Now, she traced her notes with her fingers and looked them over and over.  She remembered how pigheaded the Professor had been.  She could feel the old man’s pain and anger, but his words … his assumptions angered her enough to strike up her inner dialogue yet again.
    
    
         “If _we_ knew him as _they_ do?  Is he fucking kidding us??”
    
         “I might conjecture that _we_ may know him better than anyone here besides the Born himself … and perhaps even better than him.”

She didn’t know what the old man had been through, that was true, but the same went the other direction.  He had _NO IDEA_ how many nights she had spent staring into that thing’s eyes and wondering the very questions now that she posed to them.  Was he human?  Was he a monster?  Was he something else?

In that time with _it_ … with _him_ … she had seen many of the most basic emotions: anger, disgust, happiness, sadness, and surprise.  Happiness had been particularly jarring.  He was so _happy_ when they had first brought her before him, until he had looked into her face.  When he had grabbed her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes.  The happiness had melted into fear and then … surprise.

She wasn’t really sure why it all mattered, but not fully understanding an enemy is always the worst approach to take when considering how to defeat them.  Logical even.

She sighed loudly as she realized that she digressed …

One section of her notes distressed her though and she stared at it the longest … Empathic Broadcast.  Physical or emotional.  Pain … pain?

That _Shiny Man’s_ voice invaded her mind all at once …

> “We **_need_** to hurt you, my dear … _he_ needs to know.”

Her dialogue was immediate and fierce:
    
    
         “Stop … Yesterday is dead.”

And without even an argument she conceded and got up from the bed to relieve herself of the notebook.  She considered just setting it on the top of the dresser but she didn’t want to even see it while she dozed.  Her mind already swam with too many thoughts.

She pulled open the top drawer to place the book inside and was surprised by what she saw next.  Surprised to the point of smiling widely.  She set the notebook next to the large pile of Gummy Bears that the Born had forgotten he had been hoarding within.

Immediately the terrible thoughts had subsided and she laid back down on the bed without considering them again.  Instead she smiled as she realized the bed itself smelled like a sweet metallic oil and soft leather.  Since the _beginning of the end_ , she had never fallen asleep so fast.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan sat alone on his newly acquired sleeping accommodations.  He listened to all of the humans above.  Dutch was disappointed that she would go unsatisfied again, and she was sighing heavily as the Doctor was snoring loudly and drunkenly beside her.  Gus was always the quietest, but every one of them eventually snored, even the small one.  But the Professor was the loudest in that arena.  Fet was at least amusing though; the man spoke Ukrainian in his sleep and usually mumbled many things about the under city of New York.  Quinlan had learned quite a lot from him already.  Dawn was already fast asleep, faster than normal for her.  He was glad the bed agreed with her more than the couch.  It was a good choice.

He had not been able to sleep the previous night for … _reasons_.  Childish reasons that he would _not_ think about now.  But even the Born needed to sleep some amount of time, and the lack of it had, indeed, made him an ass as he had been accused.  He could at least admit that to himself now, alone in the dark.  He blamed part of his overreaction to the signal information on this as well.

But he was glad that he was here and she was upstairs.  The previous night had been a failure of nearly all of his discipline.  In the end, he laid awake struggling with the thought of how easy it would be to simply slip back downstairs again.  Forcing her to take his room insured that there were now boundaries in place that he was not solely in charge of.   _Good_.  Taking this out of his immediate control had actually given him more control over the entire situation and that _inconvenient_ impulse.

However he sat awake again with another concern gnawing at his ancient mind.  Her words had shaken something loose in him, something that he hadn’t realized until now: he had not held her to the standard of scrutiny that he usually placed on all, mortal or immortal.  He knew he had heard her correctly and he also knew that it meant she was not being fully honest.

His mind mulled it over.  Rolled it and kneaded it like a piece of dough.  He went over all the details yet again, and played back that night in the factory to excruciating detail.  What had he missed?  And … _ultimately_ … Did he act rashly by trusting her?  What had caused him to act so foolishly?  So _impulsively_?

No one had mentioned during this conversation what _controlling_ did to a minion, and her words in describing it were unique, ones that he had never heard used before, ones that were accurate.

The **_Red Circles_**?  Why would she know that?  Why would the Master have _controlled_ in front of her?  The explanation could be simple and harmless, _yes_.  He could easily be making a big deal of nothing, _yes_.  But he knew this was likely not the case.  The Master was not known for exposing himself to just anyone.

And Quinlan was distinctly saddened by the realization of it …

He knew she had secrets, but this was different.  This … _this_ might be about the Master.

_She was hiding something substantial from him, he was sure._

As the last thought blazed across his mind, he heard the door open upstairs and small footsteps tread to the stairs.  He could already smell that it was her.

Perhaps he would ask just ask her now then.  Put speculation aside and simply give her the benefit of the doubt.

She carefully came down the steps and as Quinlan turned to greet her, he was shocked to discover that she was just in her oversized cotton night shirt.  It had belonged to the previous owner and its size ate her alive, its length nearly reaching her knees.  It seemed uncharacteristic that she would venture downstairs _without_ her pants on though and Quinlan was suddenly embarrassed by this.  Had she forgotten he was downstairs???

He already knew that she did not _sleep_ in the pants, as he had seen her on the couch several times, having thrown off her blanket.  He had been sure he heard someone attempting to leave several times over the course of the last week but never discovered the source of it.

He had mused to himself silently each time that the paleness of her legs might even rival his own and initially he was surprised to be disappointed that they were not spotted as her arms had been.  He had imagined differently.  But each and every time he had pulled the blanket back up and over her before retreating upstairs again.  

Pushing these thoughts aside, he turned swiftly back to face away from her.  She likely needed something from the kitchen?

“Forgive me.”  He was not sure why he was suddenly apologizing, but he paused, hearing her move across the room.  She remained silent.   _Curious_.

She did not go to the kitchen though and she walked directly to the front door and reached for the handle.  Quinlan stood at once, confused at the action because the crossbar was still in place.  He stepped forward from the couch and asked clearly, “Dawn?”

But no answer was returned and then he realized what was happening … she was actually … still asleep.  Quinlan took a moment to process this, while she attempted to open the door by pulling on the handle a few times, but the bar prevented the door from moving.  She then turned back and walked towards the couch.

He knew it!   _He knew had been hearing **that**!!!_  He stepped to the side and allowed her to pass, smiling now at the reaffirmation that he had not been going crazy after all.  Each time he had heard the noise, he came downstairs only to find her sleeping peacefully on the couch.

He suddenly remembered the young one doing the same.  The _Dark Haired Woman_ had told him it was common among children, and he was to simply direct her back to bed when he would catch her up and about at night.  She also had tried to leave the house on many occasions, usually when she was restless.  He wasn’t sure if _adult_ humans had this problem very often, but he thought it uncommon.

Stuck deep in his own thoughts, Quinlan almost didn’t notice the small woman start to lay down on the couch from where he had just stood.  Now he jumped towards her.

“Wait, _wait_ … no, not here.  Come” and he took her small hand in his and pulled her gently towards the stairs.  She must have still been programmed to return to the couch to sleep after her failed escape attempt.  Quinlan thought it might be easier to carry her and he actually would have preferred it, but he remembered his wife’s words clearly, “Do not wake her.  It will startle or scare her.  Just guide her back to bed.”

So he pulled her gently back up the stairs, waiting patiently at each step and into his old room.

“Here” he said and he pushed her shoulders towards the bed.  She easily complied and once her head hit the pillow, she was completely still again.  Quinlan waited for a moment before pulling the blanket up and over her body.

She was such a _peculiar little creature_.  This was a dangerous thing to be afflicted with, especially in this time and place.  How had she survived in this siege for so long?  And then he remembered that room and the crossbar that she had installed herself and he smiled.  He pondered if it had not been meant to keep strigoi out at all, but to keep _herself_ in.

Yes, she had survived because of the very simple fact that she is a _survivor_.

He returned to the couch and laid down, promising to ask her about the other things tomorrow.  Yes, _tomorrow_.  Having not slept yesterday had given him a headache and he now wished to just sleep it all away.

He took a deep breath to prepare himself for slumber only to realize that he was surrounded by _her_ smell … it was everywhere here … all over the couch.  Quinlan sat up again in frustration.

 ** _Damnation_**.


	51. 8.6 - Control

She found Quinan standing in the middle of the ring, awaiting her arrival patiently the following morning.  This was quite normal, however his demeanor was _off_.  He stood completely still, his posture absolutely perfect, with his hands clasp in front, at attention.  He was still wearing his shoes and his vest.  Usually these were already removed … _uh oh_.

He made no immediate movement when she entered and he did not respond when she smiled at him and pleasantly told him, “Good Morning.”  Usually there was some acknowledgement, like a head nod or at the very least a half smile.  But this morning, _nothing_.  He was stoic and this made her immediately on guard.   _Crap_.

Following suit, she stood completely still and waited for him to break the silence.

“I believe it is time we spoke again.” He said.

 _Uh oh_.

“Spoke about what?” She countered.

The disappointment on his face was clear.  She _knew_ he was not a fool and she knew that she was a terrible liar.  She realized that she was already rubbing her wrist and she immediately dropped it to her side.  Damn it.
    
    
         “Don’t do that … he’ll know we–”
    
         “He _already_ knows.  He’s not a fool.”

“Have you met the Master?”  The question was direct and concise.  What he did best.

She blinked at him …
    
    
         “NO … we haven’t … Just say no” her mind countered.

“Why would **_I_** have met the Master?”  She attempted to laugh this off now.  Her smile faded quickly as he continued to stare into her eyes.  Her confined memories scratched at the walls of her brain now, and sentences from that _Shiny Man_ trickled in.

> “This is _all_ your fault, my dear.”

He sighed heavily and continued his interrogation.  His disappointment was so clear and Dawn was more troubled by this than anything else, “Please do not underestimate my ability to determine when someone is being deceitful.”

> “This is **_all_** on you.”

She remained silent and the rubbing of her wrist began again.  Memories ravaged her ability to even hear the words the Born was speaking and she stared at the ground in front of his boots.  It wasn’t the memories of the pain that crippled her, but the content of its words.

> “This is _because_ of _you_ , my dear.  Thank you.”

“Yes, I have seen him.  How did you know?  Is that so odd??”

Quinlan shifted now, finally moving and taking a step towards her, “Your mention of the ‘red circles’ was … enlightening.”
    
    
         “God damn it, that was careless … dude is _Sherlock_ ” her mind said.

Quinlan continued “He does not expose himself to just _anyone_ , so yes.  It is odd.  When did this occur?”

“He came to the factory.  He was looking for something.”   _She wasn’t lying_.

Quinlan nodded in acceptance but he still wanted more, “What occurred?  What was said?”

“I don’t remember.”  He stared, unhappy with this lie and she panicked now, “I would be happy to leave if you think you can’t trust me, Quintus,”  her words were sad in their delivery.  She really wouldn’t be _happy_ about it and she wasn’t sure if she had meant it as a threat or as an offer.  In any case, he was not pleased and it obviously caused the Born some amount of discomfort and he shifted his arms from in front of his body to behind.

“I am not sure why this **_must_** be extremes.  It is not my intention to make you feel unwelcome here.  I simply wish to know …” he paused briefly before continuing with his words, “I am _not_ demanding to know.”  The frustration that laced his voice was painful to hear and the loud sigh that followed ended with a strigoi rattle.

“Whatever he said wasn’t important if I don’t remember.  Why does it even matter?” she threw back at him.

“Every detail _could_ be important.”
    
    
         “That motherfucker is using our own words against us now … god damn it.”

She had said the same thing to him the previous day when questioning him about his human side.  It had been none of her business either and now she stuttered.

She could see it in his demeanor, she could see it in his eyes and she could hear it in his voice.  His trust in her was wavering and her heart lurched forward at the thought of this and her throat tightened.  She had a choice to make this right … at this very instance.

She should trust him, as he had trusted her, as the voice had told her to, or … she could sever whatever bond was that he had permitted to grow.  She knew however hard it had been for him to trust her, she had the power to throw it away in this single moment … right now.
    
    
        “We aren’t staying …”
    
        “I know.”
    
        “Why does it matter if we tell him then?”
    
        “Why does it matter indeed?  What are WE afraid of??”
    
        “Judgement.”
    
        “Over something we couldn’t control??”
    
        “You know what we were in control of.  You know what he promised to do if we defied him.”
    
        “Yes.  But … that was _Yesterday,_ wasn’t it?”

Her dialogue had gone on for too long, and Quinlan was now moving to leave the ring and she nearly panicked again.

“So _this_ is over then?” and she waved at the ring and towards him.  It was her turn to voice disappointment towards him.

“ _This_ will continue as long as you wish it.  But I do not feel up to it today, I’m afraid,” and he turned, defeated by her lack of compliance … her lack of _trust_.

And she conceded … “Yes, he was there … he was there because he was looking for …,” her voice was interrupted … wickedly and instantly _and_ viciously.

She felt that rumble, that deep and penetrating voice, but it was different this time.  It was hard for her to even put her finger on it immediately because of its overpowering volume … it wasn’t the same voice … at all.  The other voice had been … _feminine_.  She had always assumed it was her _own_ voice, her own _subconscious_ , her own _craziness_ , but this was distinctly NOT feminine.  This was not _her_.

 _This_ was masculine and …

 _This_ was angry and …

 _This_ was loud and …

 _This_ was … **_overwhelming_**.

 

##      “Do **NOT** tell him.”

 

Dawn’s hand went up to her temple in a way of dealing with the sudden onslaught, the sudden volume, the sudden pain, but the tremor was more than she could bare and she felt the world give way and everything that she could see …

… melted away into blackness.

She heard the Born’s voice before she saw him.  It was faint, distant, and distressed.

“Dawn? … _Dawn_?”

When she opened her eyes, she was greeted by his face, albeit a face full of concern.  But as her eyes opened, a wave of relief spread across it.  She was mostly on the ground, but also in his warm arms as he was kneeling above her.

She blinked now, “oh god … what happened??” she said out loud.

Quinlan was hesitant, “I am … _unsure_.  Are you unwell???”

He began to help her to her feet when a familiar voice interrupted them, “Uhh … _guys_ … sorry to interrupt … but we have a _big_ problem.”

The two turned to see the hacker standing in the hallway, staring through the newly opened door.  She didn’t normally wake up this early _or_ look this concerned.

Dawn shook off whatever fog that still remained in her mind and pulled out of the Born’s arms entirely, much to his immediate protest, and made her way to the door, “What problem?”

“Its not working anymore … we aren’t getting the secondary collection at _all_ anymore.”

“Shit …”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan did not get any answers that he longed for.  In fact, now he was left with even more questions.  He stared at the two women, now desperate to determine what had failed, and he thought about everything again and again.  Mulling, pulling it, kneading it.

He had heard her start to confess whatever it was that she was keeping from him … she had conceded and he turned to listen when he saw the woman grab her head and collapse.  He had caught her before she hit the ground and it was only a few seconds before she was responsive again.

He fought the desire to ask her what had just happened, to ask her if this had happened before.  He would not push this again for now … something about this was _dangerous_.  Obviously dangerous for her … and perhaps for them all.  He would tread carefully.

He stared at her, bouncing from computer to computer, entirely recovered from whatever had just _happened_.  Perhaps she had no idea?

But … most importantly … “ _ **Do NOT tell him**_ ” what exactly?  Quinlan quietly _wondered_ if she had heard it too, as it was obviously not directed to him.  She had collapsed much the same way _humans_ did to _The Scream_.

Someone had spoken but it was not the voice of the _Master_ , nor any _Ancient_ that he had _heard_ before.  No, this was someone else entirely.  And for the first time since they died, he wished that his uncles still lived.  They might have answers.

Quinlan maintained control in all aspects of his life …

But for the first time since _Ancharia_ had released him from his childhood chains, he felt completely and utterly out of _control_.

 

* * *

 

The man in silver walked down the ancient corridor, troubled by his recent action.  He was unsure what other choice he had, if he had said _nothing_ , she would have disclosed too much.  It would have put her … _them_ … in far more danger.

He knew better than she to trust that _half-breed_ bastard, who would do whatever … **_whatever_** … it took to get what he wanted.  Did she not already experience _that_?

But now it was too late and he knew had acted rashly … he did not realize _the boy_ would … could … hear him.

 _The boy_ should have been isolated, detached … _forsaken_.

_**Damn it.** _

__


	52. Interlude 5 - The Great Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ####  **Down a savage rabbit hole even further …**
> 
> What exactly was in that locked room that little Goodweather walked past in his botched escape attempt?
> 
> Locked from the outside, many ropes (whips, perhaps?) and other articles of possible torture hang from the wall opposite of this mysteriously locked room as Zach passes by.
> 
> What exactly …
> 
> or …
> 
> ####  _**Who exactly?** _

## The Great Escape

> “Have I gone mad?”
> 
> “I’m afraid so, but let me tell you something, the best people usually are.”
> 
> ―[ Lewis Carroll](https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8164.Lewis_Carroll),[ Alice in Wonderland](https://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/2933712-alice-s-adventures-in-wonderland)

There was a lull, a pause, a reprieve in the pain.  They had not been back since she had woken and that was hours ago now.  They … _he_ …. usually visited her often.  The metal shackles still locked tightly on her small wrists, connected with an overly heavy chain of about three feet in length and linked to the floor through a metal hoop.  This kept her from being able to stand.

When they … _he_ … would visit, he would disconnect the chain from the loop and put it onto the hook that hung from above.  Then they would start and it was physical as well as mental …

She could not break the chain … She had tried.

She could not pull her wrists through the shackles … She had tried.

She could not pull the loop out of the concrete to which it was anchored … She had tried.

The room had very little in it, other than the bucket they had provided … at least there was that.  Around five feet in all directions, a single entrance, windowless, cold and wet.  She figured she was underground … but she had no way of really knowing.  She had not been conscious when she was brought here.

Now she sat cross legged, waiting … _waiting_ … **_waiting_**.

On her first day here, she had screamed.  All day and nonstop … well … if it was even daytime, she’d had no idea really.  And the _Shiny Man_ had laughed and laughed at her.  She did nothing but lose her own voice and he found it so very funny.  No, she would need to save it then.  If he laughed, then there was no point.

Think … _wait_ … **_plan_**.

 _Patience_.

But last night, things were _different_.  Something was distinctly _different_.  He had come in with _the one_ and _it_ had touched her face, promising things … vicious things.   _The one_ had been in unusually high spirits, so full of smiles. **_That fucker._**

“ _Precious one_ … I will find everyone that remains that you have ever _loved_.  I will find _them_.  You must make a choice between those whom you love and _yourself_ now.”

“My master … “ the _Shiny One_ had countered, “Our leverage–” and the monster had pulled him out of the room to whisper something in private, but she had _heard_.  Her hearing had gotten keener in the hours and hours of silence, but his words were so much clearer than they should have been through that steel door.  She _heard_ him so very clearly.

> _“Enough.  We will have everything we need tomorrow.  Everything moves forward.  This gift is necessary.”_

Only the _Shiny Man_ returned and he had dropped something on the floor, within her reach.

“I am sorry, _little one_ …” She fucking hated it when he called her that, that wasn’t his title to use … but his words actually contained some hint of grief.  She struggled to focus on the object as the light that came through the now open door had blinded her.  She squinted and could see that it was a large Bowie knife.

“I am _so_ sorry … we offer you this … _release_ … if you wish to take it.”  And he had gently touched her head with his hand before he was gone.  The door was shut and locked.

Now, it was just her … her chains … her bucket … that _knife_ … and _time_.

> **“Do not give up … _please_ … it is more important than you can possibly realize that you do not give up”** that voice was forceful … pulling her out of the darkest place that she had ever found herself.  

And she knew now with completely and utter certainty that she was mad.  Oh god … just like the father she never knew … just like _his_ father … and **_his_** father before him.

They had told her it was possible, because it was partially genetic.  It was always possible … _schizophrenia_ , and now she cried as she _heard_ that voice that she could not control, rumbling through her mind, but she already knew this.  The voices had ceased when she was so young and she never told _anyone_ about them.

Knowing how the father she never knew had lived and how he had _died_ … did she even want that end for herself?  She held the knife in her hand and her tears flowed now.  For the first time since she had arrived, her tears came freely.  She had not allowed them to see her break, but now she felt that complete and utter collapse.

Only the words of one poem came to her mind as she held that knife tightly in her grasp, and now she repeated them to herself, slowly and precisely.

“This is the way the world ends … ”

> The voice was strict, **“You will _NOT_ give in to what they want.”**

“This is the way the world ends … ”

> The voice was fierce, **“You are so much stronger than _they_ realize.”**

“This is the way the world ends … ”

> The voice was desperate now, **“You are not alone, _my child_.  You have _never_ been alone.”**

“Not with a bang … but a whimper.”

> The voice was a whisper, **“If you give up now … you let them _win_.”**

And then there was silence and she held the knife so tightly, so firmly, so decidedly.

> **“Do not let _yesterday_ use up too much of today.”**

“Will they win?  Or will I just be free?”

> **“This will not free you … this will _cage_ you.”**

“You want me to live … to die like my father?”  He had died broken, crazy, and afraid.

> She could feel the smile, **“You are _nothing_ like your father.  He was alone … you have _never_ been.  Live.”**

“Live???  To _what_ end?”

> “To simply exist is its own reward.  You can find happiness.”

She laughed out loud, staring at the blade in her hand and she remembered that cafe in Rome.  She longed for it now.  The coffee, the city, the comfort, “I don’t get to have happiness like everyone else.”

> **“Of course _not_ … you aren’t like _everyone_ else.  But even you know you’ve _never_ been.”**

“He said he would kill _them all_ … **_everyone_** that I have ever loved …”

> **“And who do you love?”**

She cried again now and thought … there wasn’t much left, was there?  Her family?   _Him?  Ellie?_

> **“What family you have left does _not_ deserve _this_ sacrifice.   _He … He_ made his choice.  And I am so sorry, but _Ellie … is already gone_.”**

The tears were so forceful now … “If there is no one, then there is **_no_** point … “

> **“There is _still_ hope.  There is _still_ strength.  And there is still _love_.  You are not _alone_.  You will never be _alone_.”**

The voice knew her so very well … so very very well …

> **“Never forget … you are the master of your fate … the captain of _your soul_.”**

And slowly the tears subsided and her sadness and defeat was replaced by a familiar feeling, a feeling that she knew she was born to.  Pure and simple _defiance_.

“O.K.   What do I do?”

> She could _feel_ the voice smile, **“You will do _exactly_ as I say.  He is without _form_ now.  The _gladiator_ has afforded you an opportunity and you must use it.   _Please_.”**

“Who is the glad–”  Her question was interrupted.

> **“They have left you with a weapon. _Fools_.  But first … remove the shackles.”**

“I’ve tried … I can’t.”

> **“Your fragility gives you a distinct advantage right now … use it.”**

She looked down at the shackles and at her hands, “ _Oh god_ … I don’t think I can do that …”

> **“Break your thumb … And I’m _so_ sorry, child … you must hurry.”**

 

* * *

 

> Stand up like a soldier baby
> 
> Yeah, I know you’re built like that
> 
> Gun it like a holster babe
> 
> Shouldn’t see you weaken like that
> 
> Whenever the war is raging
> 
> Chasing our crazy dreams
> 
> Hoping that the bridge won’t cave in
> 
> Tonight we’ll let it all go free

 

It was not the _Shiny Man_ who had entered the cell, but another.  Pity.  She would have preferred it to be that _fucker_.  She was on all fours, crouching on the ground, hiding the fact that the chain was no longer through the hook and the shackle no longer covered her left wrist.

Her thumb burned and throbbed with pain, but once she had pushed it back into place, the pain was somewhat better … _somewhat_.  And it was feeling better as the minutes rolled by.

He wasn’t too tall.  Good … if he had been too tall, she might not have been able to reach him where she would need.  He came in with food on a tray and once he had passed the door frame and into her newly acquired range, she sprang directly upward, the blade swinging around and connecting with his temple at nearly a perfect angle parallel to the ground.

> **“You must sever the brain stem or severely damage the brain,”**  the voice had said.

It was a clean stab, and _the mindless_ crumpled.  It was not expecting that and her own speed had shocked even her.  The shackle was still on her right wrist, but she might be able to use the chain as a weapon.  She stood at the door and looked both directions down the hallway, unsure of which way to take.

> **“Left.”**

But this only brought her to a door that was completely chained shut.

> **“The knife … the fifth link from the right end is weak.  Use the blade as a lever … break it.  Calm yourself … but _hurry_.”**

She wedged the blade into the link and pushed it down like a lever.  Nothing.  She tried again, with more strength.  Holy shit.  It clanked and fell to the floor.

_Holy shit._

Her heart was racing and she pulled the chains from the door handle.  She heard footsteps behind her and there was a distant door opening.

But she was through the exit and she stood in a large dark tunnel … she looked around in confusion and her eyes adjusted to the lack of light slowly.

> **“To the right … run, _my child_ … _RUN_!”**

At some point, she was instructed to hide in a side tunnel, and she heard them fly by.  They already knew she was gone and she eventually found her way to a ladder and she climbed, quickly but clumsily, her hands shaking and her thumb throbbing the entire way.

She heard them beneath her now … climbing faster than she could.  They were gaining.  And just as they were almost to her, she pushed the manhole cover aside and sunlight hit her dirty, freckled face and she heard a sizzle from behind.

 _Suckers_.

She pulled herself out of the hole and fell onto the concrete ground, rolling over to expose her entire self to the sun above and she smiled.

 **Freedom**.

And this was the last time she would hear the voice until she needed it again … being drained by that very same gladiator that had afforded her freedom.

> **“You aren’t done yet … get some place safe before nightfall.”**

She smiled because she knew _just the place_ , but she would need to find a car, or a ride at the very least.  And more importantly, she needed to figure out where the fuck she was.

  
  
Commission by the talented [@weillschmidtdoodles](https://tmblr.co/mVyMJphfUE9P7qPrSJcGltw)  



	53. 9.1 - Signals

“I thought we would have more time, I guess.”  Dawn frowned at the screen.

Dutch was livid, “More time?  You knew this was gonna happen??”

“Of course it was gonna happen … I’m surprised that _you_ are surprised by this.  This is your wheelhouse, no?”

Dutch turned from the screen back to the short woman, “Well … I mean … I know satellites … but … “

Now Dawn laughed, “But you’ve always used OTHER people’s satellites? Right?  Hackers. You use the infrastructure, but don’t give a shit about what it actually runs on?”

Fet could see the tension growing and he didn’t want the ladies to start arguing again, “What’s up?  What’s da problem now?”

Dutch turned, her face full of contention and she pointed to the screen, “We’ve lost the secondary collection bird.”

Fet waited for a better explanation and his eyes grew wide with minor frustration, conveying a “and” sentiment.

“We need at least two points of collection to get a geolocation.”

“How was it lost?,” asked the Born, always the most patient of them all.

Dawn answered his question, “It likely fell.”

Fet now, “Wait?  Satellites JUST FALL?”

“All satellites, even if they are geosynchronous, require some type of [orbital correction maneuvers](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orbital_station-keeping) to … well … keep it in orbit.  Everything orbits in a very very slight downward spiral” the short woman offered a clearer explanation.

“What normally does the correction?”  The Born questioned.

Dutch now, “People … _bloody people_ normally do.  All that shit is manual sometimes.   _Shit_.  Depending on where its ground station is and how far the infection has spread … if people are even still going to work.”

Fet again, “So, does dis mean we’re screwed then?”

The two women took opposite strategies on how to deal with the news: Dutch bit her fingernails now and paced back and forth and Dawn stood perfectly still and stared at the ground.

Dutch spoke up first, “No no no … you know … maybe this is a _good_ thing??  Yeah??”

Dawn was simply confused and she scrunched her nose to convey it to the hacker.

“No no no, hear me out here … We _already_ knew that mapping out the city itself was going to be a problem because of the signal interference that the occultation would cause to the satellite collection, right??”

Dawn nodded.

“Right, so … we would have had to deal with _this_ type of problem anyways.  We’re gonna need to place our own ground collectors around the city.”

Dawn’s head tilted to the side and she nodded again in agreement, but it was the Born that spoke next, “How many receivers would need to be placed?”

Dutch said plainly, “As many as we can, as high and low as possible.  We can even still use the primary bird collection to help out. The algorithm should be able to handle it.”

And everyone was silent for a moment and the realization of what she had just said sunk in.

They would need to leave the confines of their secure little building and … venture back into the radiation soaked city.

Ephraim was suddenly vocal, “The city, eh … then I got just the thing.”

 

* * *

 

No one really ventured into the basement much, it was a little creepy, especially the panic room that resembled more of a bank safe than anything else.  Beyond needing to restock the freeze dried meals that were stored beneath there wasn’t much need to spend time in it, but Ephraim had taken stock of the medical supplies which had been hoarded with care.

Medicines, prescription and over the counter, antibiotics and painkillers, bandages, IV fluids, surgical kits.  This guy was prepared for the zombie apocalypse and luckily, even more. Ephraim had also found a quite sizable supply of [Potassium Iodate](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potassium_iodate).

“So dis will protect us from da radiation?”  Fet asked in disbelief as he stared at the pill bottle Ephraim had produced and handed to the giant man.

“Well, no … not protect _entirely_.  No.  This will saturate your thyroid over a 24 hour period with iodine so that your body doesn’t absorb the radiation.  It’ll reduce the risk of cancer over the long run for any exposure that happens.  But it’s been over two months since the initial blast, so most areas are likely safe for short term doses.  The [fallout](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nuclear_fallout) usually disperses after three to five weeks and we’ve had quite a bit of rain.  I’d recommend we all wear masks, to reduce the debris that we might breathe in.”

Fet blinked at the Doctor, “Are you radiation expert now, Doc?”  His dislike of the Doctor was so painfully obvious at this moment.

Ephraim smiled, “The CDC likes to be prepared.  We got a rebrief of **_ALL_** this after [Fukushima](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fukushima_Daiichi_nuclear_disaster) … just in case.  Actually … if that had _never_ happened, I wouldn’t have remembered any of this _crap_.”  Being suddenly grateful of an earthquake that killed so many people, just so they could safely enter the city seemed like a dick thing to say so Eph shook off that feeling of minor gratitude.  What a terrible _coincidence_.

“Alright then, loves,” Dutch beamed, “Let’s get irradiated, shall we??”


	54. 9.2 - Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
> ##  **Some Visual Aids for today’s chapter.**  
> 
> 
> There is some dialogue that only makes sense once you remember this scene above.  
> 

Dutch _hated_ pulling most of the dishes from the roof.  She _really really_ hated it, but it was necessary.  The plan was already decided: they would put six receivers around the city and it would work as a point to point system.  Four of the receivers they would place around the edges in ideal distances from each other.  The Born, being immune to the effects of the fallout that was likely stronger near the center, would learn how to set them up and then place the final two within the city, at higher points.  They’d already picked the buildings and they were just hoping that they were still standing.

Dutch was often impressed with his attitude, he definitely had a singular goal in mind at _all times_.  He had demanded to place the middle two himself even though Fet offered to accompany him.

“Regardless of what the Doctor thinks, there is no reason to expose _others_ to the possible radiation near the epicenter.  I will do these.  It should not be a problem.”  His lack of any emotion often made her think he might be an android.  He was pale just like Data, after all.

Dawn had come with her to help dismantle the things for easy transport and Dutch realized this was actually the first time that they had been alone since meeting the woman.  Well … other than the time she let her _escape_ , tee hee.

Dutch ratcheted the first dish loose while the other woman held it in place so that it wouldn’t topple to the ground once the bolt released, “So … where ya from?”

 

* * *

 

“You never stop talking, _do you_?” Dawn questioned the hacker as she helped her meticulously wire tie the cables of the second dish together.

“Sometimes … usually when I’m sleeping … at least I don’t _think_ I talk in my sleep like some people” and Dutch smiled thinking about the few nights that she’d spent with Fet.

The hacker was trying to use the opportunity to try to bond, she supposed.  Dawn had never really gotten along with most other women, but Dutch was definitely not like most other women.  They’d discussed a number of things already, from childhood to hobbies. 

Apparently, Dutch had wanted to be a lead singer in a grunge band that had never really gotten off the ground, so she had ‘settled’ for programming instead.  Dawn and her at least had that in common, she wished she had done something else with her life as well.

“Well, we can at least be resolved that whatever led us to _this_ point in our lives, we might save the world with it?”  Dutch mused.

“I guess so.” Dawn relented.  No more regrets then.

“So … you got anyone waiting for you back home?”

Dawn frowned slightly, “Nah.  That didn’t work out.”

“What didn’t?  Boyfriend?  … _Girlfriend??”_  Dutch cleverly fished.

“Husband.  Didn’t work out.”

“Ahh …” Dutch frowned now too … “At least ya had that chance.  Now I feel like I’ll never know what that feels like … having a wedding … being married … putting on the big floofy dress for every to gawk at.  I think I missed my chance.”

Dawn smiled slightly, “Well … the world isn’t over yet and … your still breathing.”

Dutch shrugged, “Yeah yeah … but it’s not like I’ll have any family left to enjoy those things with anymore, right?”

“Family isn’t necessarily people you are related to, _right_?”  Dawn postured.

“Fair enough.” and Dutch smiled widely at her comment.  It hit just the right spot.  Enough for Dutch to feel even more comfortable now, “It’s not like there is gonna be anyone who would want to though … ”

“I thought you and Ephra–”

“Haha, no no, it’s not like that between us, love … We’re both … ,“ she paused for a moment and thought carefully, “We are kinda kindred spirits of sorts.”

“So there’s no love _there_?  I doubt that.”

Dutch shrugged now … she’d really had no one to talk to about this, and it had been bothering her for a while now, “He doesn’t love me … we are just good right now because we are both _broken_.  It’s good though, because we can both enjoy it without much more.”  Dutch wouldn’t admit that she hadn’t actually had anything to enjoy in weeks now … the Doctor drank too much to even be conscious lately.

“I think we are all _broken_.”

Dutch shrugged off the uncomfortableness and attempted to divert it now, “What about you, love?”

“What about me??” Her eyebrow was raised high at the question.

“It’s the end of the world, right?  We could die at any point in time.  Literally, any second.  The Master could find us, renuke us, turn us, or God Knows what else he has in store.”

“O.K. … Your point?”

“Just sayin’ … Life is short … and I’ve seen the way you look at Gus,” and now Dutch raised both of her eyebrows in a suggestive sort of ‘yeah yeah’ motion.

The blush was immediate.   _Damn_.  “What?  No.   _NOoooooo_.”  Dawn waved it off.  She knew she had thought Gus was attractive at first, who wouldn’t?  In all honestly, she hadn’t looked at him like that in _days_ now.

“Oh come on.  It’s the end of the world … I’m not saying marry him … but hey, everyone needs to … vent … sometimes.”

The cables were tied and now the hacker started to ratchet the third dish loose.

“Oh no … no … that’s ok.  I don’t do _that_ anymore.”

Dutch stopped ratcheting to look at the woman squarely in the face, “What the fuck does that mean?  Don’t do _that_ anymore??  What?  Are you monk??”

Dawn was saddened by her statement now, “No … it’s just … I’m not in a good place right now.  The last person was my hus … but that was … no …”

Dutch pushed now, “ _Waitaminute_ … when was the last time??”

Dawn blushed, considering not answering at all now, “That’s not … it hasn’t been _that_ long … ” but as she counted in her head, she was even more embarrassed …  She was sad when she verbalized it, “Over a year now.”

“Are you _shitting_ me?”  Dutch’s eyes were wide, “Holy shit dude, I think I would have just imploded by now.  Nope, we’re gonna need to fix that.”  And it seemed like Dutch was suddenly resolved to solve this problem as she nodded to herself.

“Huh?   _Noooo_.  I don’t need your help–”

“Gus is hot, we’ll make this happen.”  She was resolved nodding as she ratcheted.

“NOOOOO.  Stop that.  Guys like Gus …,” she paused slightly, “Guys like _that_ don’t like people like me.”

“Guys like _what_ exactly?”

“Like that.”  She wasn’t even sure what she meant, but she knew it wasn’t her.

“And what do guys like that _want_?”

“Someone tall and slender and beautiful,” and Dawn smiled and shrugged, “more like _you_ than me.”

“Are you _serious_?” Dutch was mostly baffled now, because she’d never seen this side of the woman … lacking any amount of confidence.  She was one of the most confident people she’d met, although it seemed not in this area, “You realize that you are absolutely _adorable_ , right?”

This caused Dawn to laugh, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh, but more of a ‘exactly right’ laugh, “Yup … I’ve heard that … _many_ times actually.  Guys don’t want _adorable_ dude … they want someone exotic.  Someone thin.  Someone tall.  Someone Asian.”

Dutch picked up a hint of something deeper in play, “Ahhhhh … Is _that_ how your marriage ended?”

Dawn shuffled now.  If she wasn’t holding the dish so that it wouldn’t topple onto the hacker’s head, she would have run away from this conversation by now.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.   _Yesterday_ is dead.”

Dutch scrunched at the statement; it was _strange_ , but she continued, undeterred, “Well, it’s not true.   _Adorable_ , for me, goes waaaaaay farther than sexy ever does.  Plus, you’ve got some … divine big beautiful features, love.  Do you ever cosplay?  How do you feel about nurses?”

Dawn didn’t answer at all and Dutch shrugged it off.  It was worth a try.  Dutch would have done anything to jump start Eph again, but she pushed on, “Doesn’t matter … it’s the end of the world, yo.  I don’t think he’ll be overly picky.”

This caused Dawn even more uncomfortableness, “Oh, yeah … that’s _great_.  *It’s ok Dawn, he’ll sleep with you because he’s got no other opportunities*  Seriously … what is _wrong with you?_ ”

That is not what Dutch had intended to imply and she sighed heavily now, “THAT is not what I meant … and honestly, there are so many things wrong with me, I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

Dawn shrugged, “And besides … I’m not wired that way … I can’t just do that and be done with it.”

Dutch couldn’t fathom living life with those type of restrictions.  She was just fine with physical and emotional pleasures being entirely separate.  And, she would NOT be deterred from her task at hand.  “What about Vasily?”

Dawn smiled widely, “Ha!  That’s a good one.  Please tell me why we are still talking about this?”

“What?  He’s _adorable_ too. You could be _adorable_ together.” and she winked and silently died inside just by recommending it.  She knew that Fet would treat Dawn like a goddess if he had the chance but she knew that he would treat _any_ woman like a goddess … He had treated her like one, after all.

“Other than him being … a GIANT compared to me.”

“Sweetheart … everyone is a giant compared to you.”

“Haaaa … yeah … and there also the thing that he wants _you_.”

Dutch blinked, “ _Noooooo_ … No, he doesn’t … he made that decision already, love.  Well, technically I made it first … and then he reaffirmed it later.”

Dawn smiled, “Ok then.”  And the small woman shrugged.

“He totally _doesn’t_.  He _doesn’t_.”  Dutch ratcheted faster now.

“O.K. then.” The short woman said again.

“He doesn’t …,” and now Dutch sighed heavily and she pondered silently … Could he?  She rushed to change the subject suddenly, “Ok … hmmm …,” and now she giggled wildly at merely the thought of what she was about to say, “What about Mr. Quinlan?”

Dawn blushed again, “What??   _Why_ are you doing this to me?  You just enjoy seeing me in pain, don’t  you?” as she considered just leaving the dish and having someone else help the intrusive thin woman.

“A little bit … yeah I do.  I mean … he’s at least half human, right?  He might not be able to satisfy you the same way, but I’m sure with over two thousand years under his belt, he’s got that _handicap_ well under check.”

Dawn wasn’t even sure where to begin here … what part to deny and what part to question.  She leapt at the question first, “What do you mean _handicap_?”

Dutch stopped ratcheting again to look at the small woman, “He’s a strigoi … that means he has … _limitations_. I think.  Eph won’t really give me the details on it, actually, so I’m assuming that means–”

“What the hell are you talking about???”

Dutch blinked now … “I mean … cause, they got nothing down there.  It, like, falls off and stuff,” as she waved a hand at her nether region.

Dawn frowned now, “Strigoi don’t??  Aren’t they just people??”

Dutch was shocked … the woman had no clue what she was talking about.  “Wait, you didn’t know that?”

Dawn was shocked that the hacker would even ask that, “ _Why the fuck would I know that_?!?  I’ve never stripped one after I’ve killed it!”

Dutch returned to ratcheting … “Huh … yeah, hahahaha, fair enough on that one.  I guess if I hadn’t dissected those poor buggers with Eph, I don’t think there’d be a reason for me to know either then. Sorry.”

Dawn was deep in thought now and Dutch carried on, still undeterred, “I mean … it doesn’t _mean_ anything, really.  Trust me when I say you don’t need that equipment to satisfy a woman.  In fact, I’m sure he’s bloody brilliant even without it.” And now Dutch blushed intensely, as she had never actually thought about this until now … at this very instant.  Mr. Quinlan?  Gross.  No.

“Wait, so you are saying he’s not a _man_?”

Dutch scrunched her face now, “No, he’s a _man_.  He identifies with being a man, so that makes him a man, right?”

Both woman jumped at the opportunity to change the subject, “Right, fourth dish now?  So’d you have any pets other than tortoises??”

 

* * *

 

“Q!”  Fet shouted at the statuesque man.  He’d been standing in the same spot in the living room for the last 10 minutes, with his head cocked to the right, staring at the ceiling, “EARTH TO QUINLAN!!”

Quinlan sighed heavily and turned to the mountainous man, “Mr. Fet, I am _NOT_ deaf.”

“We need to make a run and find some bags to carry this shit into the city with us.  What are you even doing??”

“ _Nothing_.”

Fet looked at the ceiling and the realization of what was occurring sprang across his mind, “Wait … waitaminute… Are you listening to _them_?  Can you hear _them_?”  His smile was ridiculously big now.

“Mr. Fet–”

“You aren’t deaf eh??” and his eyes were ultra wide now.

Quinlan just sighed and stared at the man, still focused intently on the disturbing conversation that was occurring above.  They were now talking about dogs for some reason.

“What are _dey_ talkin’ bout eh?”

Quinlan ignored his prod and attempted to return to the table and take a seat.  He had not intended his action to be so … apparent.

“Come on man … what are _dey_ saying?  I always wonder what women talk about.  And _those two women_ of all … are _dey_ talking about signal bloopity bloop bloops still?”

Quinlan sat without a word.

“Ahhhhhh come on” Mr. Fet was completely fixated on at least discovering something, so Quinlan relented, “They were speaking about _personal_ things.”

Fet smiled at this revelation and sat on the bench next to the half-breed, pushing for even more.  The Professor would be out of the bathroom soon and they only had a few moments of privacy, “What kinda personal things?”

Quinlan was annoyed at his childish behavior, “Mr. Fet, please, it’s not any of our business.”

“Yeah, it’s not, but you already know … you were already prying … Do you want dem to know you were listening?”  That last bit was a threat.

Quinlan didn’t like being blackmailed, but his anger was trumped with guilt spurred by two things.   _Prying_ , indeed, and then in being a _hypocrite_.  Although, he couldn’t just turn off his ears.  He might have been able to distract himself with a walk or something though.  He was disappointed now.  He had initially convinced himself it was to listen for anything _secret_ that the poet might disclose to the _hacker_ and not to _him_.  There had been no such disclosures.

Fet could tell that the dhampir had surrendered as he sighed heavily and his shoulders dropped, so he pressed again.

“Did I come up?”

“You did, yes.”

“What did dey say???”

“If I tell you this, you will relent?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise.”

“And you will keep this between _us_?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I promise,”  Fet was like a child in his eagerness.  He reminded Quinlan like a gossiping old housewife.

“Miss Velders thinks that you are _adorable_.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing that you would find of consequence.”

The smile was ridiculous and apparently just what Fet was looking for.  The Professor was coming out of the back bathroom and Fet stood up now, completely beaming.

“Thanks _man_ ,” as he slapped Quinlan on the back, “… you wanna come?”

Quinlan shook his head and lied, “I have things here that I must help with.”

Once the big man had left the house, Quinlan turned his full attention back to the roof again.  They were still talking about dogs.

He was annoyed that the Doctor just hadn’t answered Dutch’s never ending questions about his anatomy.  He wasn’t sure what had annoyed him more, the fact that she had made assumptions or that she was now disseminating those false assumption about him to other people.

And did they have nothing better to talk about than this?   _Such childish conversations to have._

He sat on the bench and silently pouted.

He had no such … **_handicap_**.


	55. 9.3 - Signals

It was a long ride back to the outskirts of the destroyed city.  Their ‘ _safehold_ ’ was a good two hour drive away, and everyone rode in silence.  As always Fet drove and Gus rode shotgun, while the others sat in the back.  Setrakian had decided to stay at the house to ‘keep an eye on the Lumen’.  He didn’t see how he could really be of any assistance, but it was apparent that he was frankly unable to pull himself away from his _obsession_.

Fet and Gus kept their eyes open for a secondary vehicle that would allow the teams to split apart and divide and conquer the task at hand.  Three of the locations would be easy to get to with a vehicle, but the last location Fet said they would need to go underground to get around the debris.

Quinlan would have to take the same tunnel to get into the city anyways to plant the final two receivers high enough, so he would accompany that team.

“Team 1 will plant the three easy locations and Team 2 will plant the one location, showing Q how to set it up and then he’ll carry on.  We will rendezvous back to this crossroad.”  Fet had mapped out everything the night before.  He knew the city the best and everyone knew it.

It had actually been difficult to decide on the teams, almost everyone was in disagreement over everything it seemed.

  * Dutch didn’t like the idea of the tunnel … she was “slightly” claustrophobic she claimed.
  * Fet obviously wanted to go with Dutch, though he wouldn’t say as much out loud.
  * Fet didn’t want to go with the Ephraim, he did say this much out loud.
  * Ephraim wanted to go with Dutch.
  * Quinlan wanted Fet in the tunnel with him, in case things became “unfortunate” and they had to flee in a rush and Fet claimed he knew the tunnels like the back of his hand.
  * Dawn didn’t want to have to set up three receivers and she claimed Dutch was faster at it.  Plus, Dawn wanted to be someplace dark, where she could hide her face easier.  She kept this reason to herself.
  * Quinlan didn’t want Dawn in the tunnels with them.  He said the tunnels were going to be far more dangerous and he told himself that he was mostly worried about her fragility causing a problem, in addition to possibly having another ‘episode’ like the one that he had witnessed in the training room earlier in the day.



And this was the most contentious point, it would seem.

> Dawn: “No, it’ll be fine, I’ll go with you and Fet in the tunnel. And Dutch will go with Gus and Eph, up top.  She doesn’t want to go in the tunnels.”
> 
> Quinlan: “No, the tunnels will be more dangerous.  I believe it would be better if Dutch accompanied me.  Especially if you are correct, and she can set it up _faster_.”
> 
> Quinlan could not out what he knew about her condition, and the Doctor was giving him particularly evil eyes right now.
> 
> Dawn: “Exactly.  I’m a better fighter than Dutch is.”  *Dutch nodded wildly … she really didn’t want to be in the tunnels*
> 
> Quinlan: “Just show me how to set it up here and I will do all three.”
> 
> Dutch: “Yeah, uh.  We won’t know quite yet.  It depends on what the occultation does to the signals themselves.  There’s gonna need to be a bit of on site calibration.”
> 
> Dawn was particularly insulted with Quinlan’s previous statement and he caved on one condition: “You will follow my _direction_.”  She agreed begrudgingly.

Gus could have cared less, “You just tell me where you need me and let me kill some of those assholes.  I’m good.”

But now they rode in silence and once a viable vehicle was spotted, the teams broke apart and neither Dawn nor Quinlan took shotgun in Gus’ absence.  It would be best if no one spied the half breed in the front seat.  The occultation had allowed strigoi to roam the streets at almost all hours now.  Dawn provided no explanation as to why she stayed in the back with Quinlan.

It was actually nice to get out of the house and Quinlan realized that he had gotten a little stir crazy.  The last time he had left was the day before yesterday to feed.  Even though he was known for his patience, sharing so much time with _humans_ had been having its toll on his introversion.

They were almost to their departure spot and he watched the small woman bounce with every bump of the vehicle, holding onto her sun stick tightly.  She’d refused to leave it, even at his request.  So much for taking _direction_.  She had wanted to keep it close in case they were ‘separated’ and she would not budge on that, regardless of Quinlan’s insistence that he would not allow that to happen.

The inner city itself was in utter ruin and only the concrete and stone buildings remained upright, yet Vasily maneuvered the vehicle with ease, all things considered.  All other buildings had collapsed and there had been a massive firestorm that burned almost everything within hours of the blast.

It had been much like Hiroshima and all of the videos Quinlan had watched nearly 70 years ago.  He remembered that time with much sorrow, as it was the death of traditional ‘war’ itself.  Those were the moments when the entire concept had changed for not just him, but the Earth itself.  It saddened him, as it actually meant he had, indeed, become just another relic of time.

The closer they were getting, the more difficult it was became to navigate until Fet stopped all together.

“Nope, we gonna have ta go on foot from here.  We got about three blocks until da entrance.”  And the men grabbed the duffel bags full of equipment and it was a quiet walk.  They spied no strigoi anywhere and that fact made _everyone_ nervous.  Dawn stayed close to the Born, with her hood conveniently pulled down and over her face, and her breathing mask in place.

Quinlan was in the lead until the underground entrance, as always but once they were into the tunnel itself, he let Fet lead with his head lamp and he took up the rear, keeping no more than five feet of distance between the humans and himself.

They expected the tunnel to be cool, but it was very warm and the humans eventually removed their masks all together because of the stifling heat.  The tunnel was rich in the smell of strigoi and Quinlan had almost found it overwhelming.  He’d never smelled _this_ many strigoi all at once and realized that they were likely the source of the heat they were feeling as well.

“Be on guard.” he warned them.  Something felt off.

There was nothing of human life left, only the two that walked cautiously before him.  But at one point, Fet stopped and looked around, almost confused.

“Uhhh … yeah, that’s not right.”  Then he turned around and stared down the tunnel where they had just come, gripping his rebar tightly in his left hand and jiggling the gun that he held in his right … “uhhhh … hold up a sec, guys.”

Quinlan raised a non-existent eyebrow and glared at the giant man, “Is there a problem?”

“Uhhhh … hold on, lemme think.”  Fet looked ahead and then looked behind again.  “Maybe … maybe a problem.  Hold on … lemme go back and look really quick.”

“Mr. Fet, let us accompany you.”

“No no no, I’ll be really quick.  Hold on.” and the big, usually happy man, bounded back the way they had come, leaving the two alone in the dark tunnel.

Quinlan could see quite fine, but he knew she could not in the absence of the big man’s head lamp to guide the way so he offered her a small assurance, “I can still hear him, he will return shortly.” She nodded, holding her stick tightly.

She did not seem as affected by the dark or silence as Quinlan was, and he felt compelled to speak now.  He wasn’t sure how to tread carefully and he knew this was likely not the best time to risk another ‘episode’, “May we speak candidly?  Yesterday, you were going to tell–”

But her hand flew up quickly to silence him and he was immediately confused, as he heard _nothing_ … until he did.  He heard … so … very … many … **_damnation_** … he heard a herd down the way … ambling quickly down the corridor.  However, this was not just a herd, he knew this was an _army._

Dropping the bag of equipment he was carrying to the side, he considered heading back, but he knew they would be heard, especially her mortal movements.  He could carry her … but his hesitation to decide took too long and he looked from side to side and noted the lower ground on the edges of the tunnel walls, likely built for water drainage and roughly five feet in depth.

It would be sufficient and he grabbed the woman without warning, bending down and wrapping his arm snugly around her waist and pulling her to his chest quickly and firmly, jumping down into the empty moat.  The sudden movement was unexpected and it caused her to drop her staff into the recessed area as his whiplashed her arm around and he heard one of the bulbs break as it connected with the ground.  

 _Damnation_!

He was sure he would not hear the end of that if they survived this and this just reaffirmed his original desire for her to leave it _behind_.

The herd had rounded the corner now and he moved quickly, dropping her against the far wall and onto a small ledge roughly eight inches in height and four inches in width.  It was a conduit of some kind and likely contained cables.

Their smell was incredibly intense and overwhelming, but he also knew that her smell would cut through the strigoi stench still as it was stronger to him and definitely to _them_.  No humans had been in the tunnels for months now.

If he had planned ahead better, he would have removed his coat and covered her with it, but time was even shorter and he pushed himself around her and up against the moat concrete wall.  He grabbed his hood, pulling it as far forward as possible and held its edges against the wall, trapping her head and face within it.  The added height that the conduit afforded her short stature helped align her body to the shape of the coat and brought them nearly face to face.

She understood at once and grabbed the sides of the coat, repeating the same strategy and holding it against the wall to her sides.  The fabric had enough give so that their skin would not need to touch, but their faces were now mere inches apart.  Quinlan became a statue at once as he attempted to shield **_her smell_** from escaping the airlock that he had just made with his wool clothing.

 

* * *

 

She knew he was fast.  Yes, yes, she _knew_ it.  She’d seen it.  She’d experienced it, but it continued to surprise her each and every time.  He had moved so swiftly that she had dropped her staff and she heard part of it shatter.

 _Fuck_.

She knew she wasn’t going to hear the end of this … he’d told her to leave it after all.  But right now, neither spoke nor moved.  She had realized she was holding her breath and she had to coax herself to take a deep breath when she realized she might actually pass out from it.

At first, she could see nothing in the darkness, only hearing his quiet breath and feeling his heat.  The strigoi ambled above and there was a lot of them … too many for her to even venture a guess and the massive queue didn’t seem to be dispersing anytime soon.  So they both waited in agonizing patience.

As her eyes adjusted, she could see the Born’s face completely now, and his head was cocked to the right slightly, his eyes focused intently on the wall behind her head.

He was _listening_.

Everything was very awkward all at once, as she stared at his face.  His eyes were _striking_ … and she found his breath incredibly warm as it hit her skin.  Being trapped in the wool cocoon with such a powerful heat source was causing her forehead to bead up with moisture and she released the sides of his coat in an attempt to let some amount of cool air in.

His attention was suddenly directed away from staring at the wall to looking into her eyes, and his brow furrowed.  The intent of this motion was clear.  He was telling her _to not move again_.

The furrow in his brow disappeared and his eyes remained locked on hers now.  She could not tell if he was still listening to _the mindless_ above or not, but now he just stared and this caused her heart rate to jump every so slightly as a bead of sweat broke free from her forehead and trailed down the side of her face, continuing its path down the line of her jaw, down her neck until it hit the rim of her shirt and was absorbed.

The conversation that she had with Dutch yesterday invaded her mind and she considered her words again.  Dawn was confident in many things.  She was confident in her ability as a fighter, she was confident in her intelligence and she was confident in her opinions.  But she was not a confident person in _this_ respect.

God, his eyes were _striking_.

She’d never had much luck with _this_ , as she wasn’t anything close to being the definition of an ideal woman for most.  She wasn’t ugly, by any means, but she was just simply not considered _beautiful_.  Maybe somewhat _pretty_?  Sure.  Depends.  But Dutch had hit it right on the nose … she was _adorable_ … and not really _sexy_.  Well, unless you like highly disproportionate female?  Not many did, and she had learned that the hard way and over many years of ruined friendships and rejections until she had started to date _him_.  They were best friends at first.

But her confidence in what Dutch was suggesting was simply non-existent, and so as she even considered her next action, she realized it was highly uncharacteristic of her and nervousness washed over her entirely.  Her heart lurched forward again and she knew he could detect it.

Perhaps it was even the fact that there could be no _traditional_ sex considering his _handicap_ that also boosted her confidence a bit now.  If she didn’t need to worry about being _sexy_ per se, maybe it was a good thing?  She actually wouldn’t have to worry about _disappointing_ him in that respect, right?

And her mind fought and debated with itself as he continued to stare directly into her eyes, neither his face nor body releasing any motion at all.

God, _**he**_ was _striking_.

Her face was suddenly flushed for the thoughts and her eyes grew wide as she looked away from his.  She wasn’t sure when _this_ feeling had happened … she wasn’t sure at all.  He was a _monster_.  He was grotesque … except he wasn’t, he never had been.

 _Shit_.

The next bead of sweat followed the same trail down her face as the first had and she looked back to him again, and found that he had not moved a single muscle and he stared coldly back into her eyes.  Her heart jumped and she stared at his lips next.  They were perfect and so very very … was she being serious??   … They were so very … _tempting_ right now.  **_Tempting?!?_**

God, _what the fuck_ was he thinking right now?

The noise from above had started to wane a bit, and it sounded like the density of the herd was thinning and now she panicked slightly realizing that he would pull away soon.

It’s _now_ or never … 

**_?!?!_ **

 

* * *

 

Her heart was racing as he stared at her.  He wished that she would calm herself.  He wasn’t worried about the strigoi above hearing her, their ambling was loud enough to cover her beating, but it was causing him to yearn.

He knew he should have fed today before they ventured out.  He hadn’t been back to his stash in a few days but they wanted to get started as early as possible.  It had been a long drive and they wanted to get back before dark.  And it was only getting worse, as her smell was intensifying because of his heat, and as she began to sweat, his body thirsted deeply.

He stared into her eyes to calm himself, those eyes had that effect on him and it was working until her face flushed and her heart rate bumped up yet again.

 _Damnation_.

He furrowed his brow at her again in an attempt to convey this, but now he saw the smallest of smiles on her face and she began to bite her lower lip.  He suddenly became nervous as he wondered what was going through that impressive mind at that moment.  He stared at the lips, staring at the teeth that were biting, remembering his hunger again and wondering about the taste of it.

He nearly jumped as he felt her hands on his sides now and he felt them begin to slide around his vest to his back and she began to lean forward.

_Oh gods.  What was she doing?  Why???_

No.   _No.  NO. **NO**._

**_Absolutely not!!!_ **

He was desperate to convey without words his need for her to stop, but he knew he could not move away.  They would see his sudden movement.  He was trapped and powerless against her advancement.  And he fought the twitch that pleaded to be released as he furrowed his brow at her again.

**NO.  Stop. _Please_.**

He made his eyes angry in an attempt to scare her into compliance but she continued to lean towards him, with that beautiful little smile and those dragonfly eyes and her hands squeezed his lower back pulling herself closer to him.  Quinlan remained entirely still.

 _Damnation_.

The herd was thinning, and now they were down to waiting for the stragglers when her lips actually met his in their entirety.  His body stirred and his hunger abated in its entirety.  He fought every twitch that now _begged_ him for release.

His eyes closed and he remained utterly still.

> _Do **not** reciprocate_ , he commanded himself.

Her lips were thin and soft against his and he felt the moisture that was beading up on the soft hair above her upper lip on his skin.  The smell of them so close to his nose was intoxicating.

> _Do **not** provoke this action further_ , he ordered himself.

Her hands were still gripping his sides and lower back tightly and she pushed herself against his chest as she leaned in a bit more.

> _Do **not** encourage this,_ he fought himself.

Now there were only a handful of the minions above and he heard them shuffling along the slowest of all.  They were taking up the rear so it was very likely they were the slower due to injury or something. Their movements were _painfully_ slow to Quinlan right now.

He told himself that it would just be a few more moments and he could pull away entirely, but he wasn’t sure if he could even wait that long.  His fortitude was waning and he made a slight movement, hoping the beings above would not notice.

He pushed his forehead against hers and used the motion and leverage to move his mouth away, without returning the gesture of intimacy at all.  He could keep her mouth at bay now, if she attempted to repeat the action and he finally opened his eyes to find hers staring back at him, _disappointed_.

Her hands immediately dropped from his sides and back to their original position with her palms against the wall.  She moved her head away from his and rested it against the wall.  She was attempting to pull as far away from him as she could manage in the confined space.

And then she offered him the weakest little smile and the smallest of shrugs he seen from her to date.  She mouthed the word ‘sorry’ to him carefully and then looked away first before closing her eyes completely, breathing out carefully.

She was quite embarrassed now, this much was easy for him to read.  And even as the last minion above staggered down the corridor and out of view of the two hidden trespassers, Quinlan did not move a muscle.  He breathed carefully.

Every logical part of his mind commanded him to move now, to pull away and leave it as it was.  Allow her to be embarrassed to ensure this would _not_ happen again …

  
Commission by [@weillschmidtdoodles](https://tmblr.co/mVyMJphfUE9P7qPrSJcGltw)  


 

* * *

 

Her eyes were closed so tightly.  She was attempting to prevent any tears and she was hoping that he would pull away soon before she would feel it was necessary to open them again.

Right now, she just wanted to melt away into nothingness.  Right now, she didn’t want to exist anymore at all.  Not even her internal dialogue could help her with all of her impending belittling thoughts.

God, that was _dumb_ … what was she even thinking?

 _OH GOD_ … why was she such a fucking _dork_?

 _Fuck_.  She struggled with her composure.

Did you really think he would welcome _that_?

Don’t tear up, _you freaking idiot_.  Don’t do it!  At least not in front of _him_.

A tortuous minute rolled by and her internal self ridicule continued.  She realized he still wasn’t moving even though there was no sound above and she forced her eyes open finally.  This time it was her turn to furrow her brow at him.

This was going to be crazy awkward, she knew.   She suddenly realized there was probably going to be a _discussion_ of some kind concerning her action and at the thought of a lecture over this, she wanted to melt into the ground again.  She’d ruined friendships like this before, and they weren’t really _friends_ were they?

“Are they–?” her whispered question had just barely escaped her mouth when he dropped the hood edges and brought his left, gloved hand up trailing the skin of the right side of her neck and slid his fingers into the hair above it.

He gripped tightly yet gently and she let out the smallest of gasps as he pulled it back at a 45 degree angle, forcing her to expose the opposite side of her neck to him, the side that beared the mark he’d left on her at the factory.   _His mark_.  It had not healed fully yet.

Her first reaction was to bring her hands up to his chest and try to push him away defensively.  She thought his action seemed aggressive, especially given his history with her neck after all.  She knew she should have been riddled with more fear than she was, but she also knew it was pointless.  Even with the Bowie knife that was concealed in her belt, she knew she was completely merciless to him now, just as she had been before.

And she shuddered with slight relief when it wasn’t his stinger that connected with that tender spot of her neck that he had laid claim to weeks before, but his silken lips.  His purr was undeniable as he took a deep breath and expelled it along with the next kiss.

_holy …  
_

_crap …_

The tenderness of the initial action almost felt like an apology and she felt the hot moisture of his lips press against her skin.  His right arm found its way under her, as it traced along her frame from her hip around to the small of her back, much the same way it had in that concrete room and he pulled her close to him, snugly.  He rattled as he started the next kiss on her neck, however this time she felt the slightest hint of his tongue brush warmly along the underlying skin.

He crushed her frame against him just like before and she eerily remembered this position, being pinned against a concrete wall.  This memory forced goosebumps across her skin, and she wasn’t entirely sure it was the good kind either but even with this sudden rush of fear, she wasn’t stopping him.  Her hands still pushed their palms against his chest and now she curled them into shaky fists, grasping as much of his vest as she could.  She wasn’t entirely sure if was to prevent him from pulling away or perhaps she was attempting to brace herself for something.

And she flinched slightly as he pulled her hair back further still and she realized his teeth now crawled and raked against his mark and he nipped at it gently near the end of the next kiss.  His body quaked with vibration following each purr, however this time with the subtlest groan trailed behind it.  She swallowed hard as he increased the pressure between the teeth and the gnaw was starting to become less playful when suddenly …

Quinlan pulled away, releasing all of his grips on her, dropping her suddenly back to the ground and diverting his attention to the mountain of a man now jogging down the corridor towards them.

“GUYS!?!  GUYS?!” Fet’s voice was overly concerned as he came down the corridor, trying to be loud enough to be heard, but quiet enough to not invoke the herd’s response, “Are you guys alright?!  Did you see all those munchers?!”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan had taken the lead in the tunnel, regardless of Fet knowing the way.  He walked briskly in front, keeping no less than twenty feet between him and the two humans.

The damn bloodsucker hadn’t said anything since they had reconnected after the herd moved through.  Not a single fucking word even though Fet had called out to him a few times which way to go.  He had been completely unresponsive to anything.  This was making the Ukrainian nervous.

“Ah man, he seems _pissed_ … what’d you do _dis_ time?” he questioned the miniature woman who walked beside him, holding her staff.

Her face was void of emotion and she offered no words in response.  Only a weak shrug.


	56. 9.4 - Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets get this rollin’ … shall we?

Abraham stared at the pages.  This had gotten to the point of being undeniably torturous and he knew that he was bringing it upon himself.  He might not have as much self discipline as the Born, but the old man prided himself on what discipline he _did_ have and now that had been starting to diminish.

The translation of the majority of the book and its more obvious languages was completed over a month ago.  That had been fairly simple, as it was mostly written in Latin and German, both of which Setrakian and Mr. Quinlan were quite adept.

So far, the contents of the book itself had been extremely disappointing.  It was really hard to understand why the Master would have feared them with _this_ information.  There was nothing in the book that was not already accounted for in other texts that the Professor had read over his long years, save for the few chapters on the various unknown hunters and the creation of the ‘box’.  

It had not even described the existence of the borns, to which Mr. Quinlan had already disclosed that there were four before himself.  In general, its wording and layout seemed more like a giant puzzle than a reference manual, but he knew they didn’t have all the pieces quite yet.

The Born questioned why the old man wanted to continue with it, but Abraham was ashamed that he had intentionally been hiding things from his immortal companion.  The sun inked pages had contained the more useful bits of the Lumen, but as of right now, unbeknownst to the Born, roughly nine tenths of the sun writing of the book was still untranslated.

He had completely lied to Mr. Quinlan.  He had given him only a handful of the sun pages.  The pages written in the more disturbing language, Abraham had kept to himself … he had kept them secret, waiting until the half-breed had ventured out to fed every other day to take the book out and copy more of the text.

He felt very little guilt for not trusting the Born, as he knew that they would both do whatever it took to get what they both wanted, though that feeling was mutual.  Had it come down to their individual survival, Abraham was more comfortable keeping his advantage, at least for the time being.  He didn’t even trust Mr. Fet _that_ much.

Destroying the Master was **_all_** that mattered.

The bulk of the sun pages were written in a language that he had not been overly familiar with and it was taking much longer to figure out from pure memory alone.  He wished he had spent more time on the occult language now.  He had dismissed it entirely, as most had.

It wasn’t impossible, as the language was said to have been ‘ _fabricated_ in the late 16th century.  And since the Lumen, in its current form, was transcribed in 1667, it was not out of the realm of possibility that someone had used the fake antediluvian language for these last dozen pages or so to purposely throw off the authenticity of it.

Setrakian wrote out what he remembered of the script and its letterings, but what he was seeing in the Lumen was slightly different and he had been mapping out the differences when the Born had been _distracted_ by other things lately.

If Mr. Quinlan really needed to learn about signal processing, then so be it, it afforded him secrecy.  If the situation had been different, he would have said something about this _distraction_ , but Abraham also needed it … at least until he could be certain that what he was translating was even correct or even useful.

And he looked at the first couple of lines as he read them back.

_Hell_.

Setrakian stood and helped himself to another cup of tea.  Now he paced the area directly in front of the table and considered carefully what it might mean in the long run.

In any case, he would tell the Born when they returned from their errand.  Until then, he would start the translation of the remaining dozen pages alone.

He stared at the first sentence now … looking over his cipher carefully.

> _**“PERIAZODA DE A EL PALA OD D ESIASACAHECHE”** _

Why the Lumen would be partially written in this language was beyond Setrakian’s understanding, but it was quite telling how the first sentence translated.  He knew the last word was incorrect, but it was closest translated to same siblings … perhaps even ‘ _brothers_ ’?  It was similar but not quite right.  And he looked at the words on his page:

> _**“THOSE OF THE FIRST TWO AND THREE [BROTHERS]“** _

Brothers wasn’t quite right here.  The word was very similar but it was actually lacking all gender, and seemed to imply _siblings_?  Or perhaps even more correctly … ‘ _brood_ ’.  The ‘ _first brood_ ’ of who?  The Ancients?  Yes, the Ancients.  Why call out the ‘ _first brood_ ’ so directly??  Were there other ‘ _broods_ ’??

Also, the ‘ _two and three_ ’ perplexed him a bit.  He also knew there was no direct translation for many of the basic numbers.  Perhaps this was actually the direct translation to ‘ _five_ ’?  He thought this was likely wrong because there were _seven_ brothers, right?   _Seven_ Ancients … not _five_.

But everything in the Lumen was just a riddle right?  It was a riddle that could have some real world meaning _after_ it was deciphered.  He stared at the sentence again and he repeated the word out loud that he had already said in his mind.

“ _Hell_.”

It was written in [Enochian](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FEnochian&t=M2FjODRmMzE0Yjc2NmMyYTBiM2JhNmM5ZTM1OTllNzk5NWU2NDE3ZixVRUVaVXVScA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) … the _Language of the Angels_ …

_The Celestial Speech_ itself.

“ _Hell_.”

 

* * *

 

The three waited patiently at the rendezvous point inside the limited safety of the vehicle.  The other crew was late, and not just moderately late, they were bordering on over an hour and a half now.  Fet was getting particularly nervous and he looked at his watch every other minute.  If they didn’t leave in the next 30 minutes, they would not make it back to the house before dusk.

Quinlan hadn’t said anything since the tunnel.   _Nothing_.  Even when she had set up the receiver at checkpoint Alpha, he had watched in total silence, only nodding as she had directed him with each step.  He’d taken both heavy bags and departed, only to return less than hour later.  He had accomplished the task in half the time they had estimated.

“I’m gonna go and see if I can see dem coming,” as Fet started to get out of the vehicle when Quinlan stopped him by _finally_ speaking.

“Mr. Fet, there is no point.  Stay in the vehicle,” and now he looked over at the small woman he had commanded to sit shotgun with the giant man, “And you should be wearing your mask at _all times_ ,” he demanded of her harshly and she pulled it out of her pocket and complied without speaking or looking back at him.  He knew he had made her uncomfortable with his silence.

He stared back down at his hands as he moved the small clay sculpture around in his bare fingers.  He hadn’t held it in days and now he felt painfully guilty about that fact, tracing the figure opposite of his visage on the delicate surface with the tip of his finger and he replayed the situation that had occurred in the tunnel with disappointment.

Her advancement caught him off guard.  She seemed to be able to do that to him with ease though.  He reacted to it _impulsively_.  He had barely been able to maintain his composure as it was, his body was revolting against any ounce of willpower that remained.  He was certain he had it under control and then she spoke and he smelled her breath.

He sighed dramatically at the memory of it, which didn’t help things at all.  He could still smell her sweat on his lips.  He should have wiped them clean by now.  He could have wiped them off in the tunnel, but he hadn’t.  He could do so now, but he just breathed in again, closing his eyes tightly.

_Damnation_.

He knew whatever was festering between them could not be allowed to continue _any_ further.  He had already resolved to ignore whatever physical attraction he was currently dealing with _before_ today, _before_ that tunnel, but she was obviously feeling something towards him as well.  

Pursuing a purely physical relationship would have been convenient and it would have aided in subduing his recent urges, but he knew that would be problematic with her, considering her recent conversation with Miss Velders: “I don’t think I’m wired that way.”  No, he did not wish to provoke any emotional attachments.   _Not again.  Never again._

And he stared at the locket, remembering the tortuous past to validate his decision.  Quinlan had only loved one, but there were actually several others over the many long years who had loved him.  Humans seemed to be able to love quite easily, more so than he at least.  He didn’t mind that as it had kept him hardened and always on task.

_The Priestess_ had been one of the few.  He was careless and he had allowed her to fall in love with him; he had even enjoyed the enticement of her affection, however it ended _tragically_.   ** _No, not again.  Never again._**

One element of the encounter below was eating away at him while he stuffed the precious locket back into his pocket.  One thing that he couldn’t shake that had made him very uneasy.  He’d forgotten it entirely until he was setting up the second receiver in the high rise.  When the herd had first come, ambling their way along the dark tunnels, she had heard them _first_.  Her hand had gone up to silence him before he had heard anything.  Had he just been distracted?  He thought not, but perhaps the simplest explanation was also the correct one in this case.  She distracted him too easily.

He heard a car in the distant background and was genuinely relieved.  He wasn’t in the mood to have to go and retrieve the other humans today.  He just wanted to get everyone back to the house.

And he was _starving_ …

As the car sped up and broke fast, Quinlan opened the side of the van to let the eager passengers in.

“What da fuck happen’d to you guys??!!” Fet called out from the front seat as the three shuffled into the van, completely soaking wet and reeking.  The giant man grabbed his nose quickly, “What da fuck … is that sewer??  You were supposed to take the surface streets!”

“Just … don’t.   ** _No_**. Just no.” Dutch’s face was livid as she pointed to Fet and immediately pulled off her soaked jacket, throwing it onto the floor of the van as she slammed the door shut behind her.

Quinlan could easily detect the strong stench of human excrement all over them.  The Doctor was the dirtiest of all and his bald head was entirely covered in what Quinlan knew _looked_ like mud, but definitely wasn’t.

Ephraim looked at Fet and Dawn and their dry clothes with incredible envy and immediately sneered, “You know what? _Fuck this, man_.  Next time, I’m going with _the Born_ too.”

 

* * *

 

Abraham knew they would be back at any time, and he’d managed to plow through the first of the Enochian sun pages, but he stared at the puzzle in silent awe.  Though the years of taking _The White_ had sharpened his mind more than any simple mortal, he still knew he was missing at least 20% of the known alphabet right now, and at least 10% of what he did know, seemed to be wrong … or at the very least _off_.

The Lumen had been clear about the “four mental powers” of the Ancients, but it had not gone into any detail surrounding them.  However, they had been fairly certain that they had mapped these out correctly, but he could see that was not entirely accurate as he compared it with the whiteboard scribbles.

> _**PERIAZODA DE A EL PALA OD D ESIASACAHE** _
> 
> _**ERM A CONGAMPHLGH DE ES BIAL** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**A BIAL AR CAMLIAX** _
> 
> _**T IAID LAP A [** UNKNOWN GLYPHS **] CONGAMPHLGH**_
> 
> _**A BIAL AR DOOAIN** _
> 
> _**ADAGITA A AALA DE [** UNKNOWN GLYPHS **]**_
> 
> _**A BIAL AR SAANIR** _
> 
> _**TOL AR A CONGAMPHLGH OECARIMI** _
> 
> _**A BIAL AR HE DE MONONUSA** _
> 
> _**ADAGITA BOLAPE DE EL CONGAMPHLGH** _

> __
> 
> _**THOSE OF THE FIRST TWO AND THREE [BROTHERS]** _
> 
> _**WITH THE MIND OF FOUR VOICES** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS** _
> 
> _**TOO LOUD FOR THE [** UNKNOWN **] MIND**_
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT CALLS** _
> 
> _**TO THE PLACE OF [** UNKNOWN **]**_
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT SHARES** _
> 
> _**ALL THAT THE SOUL PRAISES** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT BEATS** _
> 
> _**TO BE OF ONE MIND** _

He was shakiest on this particular translation, as ‘ _ **HE DE MONONUSA**_ ’ had literally meant ‘ _song of heart_ ’.  Since he knew the ‘ _ping_ ’ was one that they had detailed, this translation seemed to make the most sense.  

> Originally, he mapped them as:
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS :     Incapacitation** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT CALLS :        Making a Call** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT SHARES :     Empathic Broadcast** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT BEATS :        Hearing / Speaking** _

But, ultimately he knew this wasn’t right.  The **_voice that calls_** wasn’t directly translatable to **_making a call_** , as easy as that might seem.  The word used wasn’t really to call in the modern sense but it was more _to beckon_ or _to summon_ which was quite different than the controlling the Master was capable of.  They had originally mapped the ‘ _ping_ ’ and the ‘ _speaking_ ’ as the same power, and he knew now, according to the pages, these seemed to be separate, so he augmented his mapping again:

> _**THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS :        Hearing / Speaking / Incapacitation** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT BECKONS :    ??** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT SHARES :        Empathic Broadcast** _
> 
> _**THE VOICE THAT BEATS :           Pinging** _
> 
> _**?? :                                                 Making a Call** _

He wished he knew the last part of “ ** _ADAGITA A AALA DE [_** _UNKNOWN_ _GLYPHS_ ** _]_** ”.  What exactly would they be beckoned to, and why didn’t this list the ‘ _controlling_ ’ power at all?  Perhaps minions are drawn back to the Ancient that created them?  Maybe ‘ _controlling_ ’ and _this_ was the same thing?  That would make sense, he supposed.  But was that considered a part of another power that they didn’t know about yet?

Abraham carried on and translated the next line:

> _**“A UIV ADAGITA CARBAF DE A EL PALA OD D ESIASACAHE”** _
> 
> _**“THE SECOND TO FALL OF THE FIRST TWO AND THREE BROTHERS”** _

He sipped his cup of tea, staring at the words and a faint chill ran down his spine.  ‘ _The second to fall_ ’ was confusing.  They knew of only one Ancient that had fallen.  The one that was likely trapped in a box in the sands of Egypt somewhere.  Perhaps it is referring to a prophecy of the Master falling?  The Born had mentioned _scripture_ that detailed a _Born_ bringing about their _downfall_.

Abraham carried on yet again and worked on the next lines.  Then, he carefully translated it again … and then a third time before he stood again to get another cup of tea.

> _**“A UIV ADAGITA CARBAF AD ADAGITA CAOSGA A PALA OD D OD PALA** _
> 
> _**AFFA OD AG** _
> 
> _**AMMA DE CANILU** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**CRP OD PAGE** _
> 
> _**AMMA ADAGITA CANILU** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**AG BIAL AR DOOAIN ADAGITA A AALA DE [** UNKNOWN GLYPHS **]**_
> 
> _**AMMA ADAGITA CYNXIR ERM COREDAZODIZODA** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**TA BOLAPE A ALCA DE A AUDROPL”** _

 

> _**“THE SECOND TO FALL CAST DOWN TO EARTH IN TWO AND THREE AND TWO** _
> 
> _**EMPTY AND NONE** _
> 
> _**_****_ CURSED OF BLOOD** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**ALONE AND QUIET** _
> 
> _**_****_ CURSED TO BLOOD** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**NO VOICE THAT CALLS TO THE PLACE OF [** UNKNOWN **]**_
> 
> _**CURSED TO MINGLE WITH MAN  
>  ** _
> 
> __
> 
> _**AS IS THE JUDGEMENT OF THE GOVERNOR”** _

No, _that_ … _that_ wasn’t right.  And he wasn’t sure if he was more scared that it made more sense now or that it implied … other things all together.  ‘ _TWO AND THREE AND TWO_ ’, if he was right about _five_ did mean _seven_ , and _seven_ made sense.   _Seven_ was the right number, especially coupled with something being ‘cursed to blood’ and to ‘ _mingle with man_ ’.

Abraham paced now and he considered the verse above.  If the _Ancients_ were cursed … what were they _before_ they were cursed.  And now, the text was actually calling out that they lost their ‘ _beckoning_ ’ ability, so they hadn’t actually missed that power … if the Master didn’t really have it … and then it was after ‘ _falling and being cast out_ ’.  The Professor stopped in his pace and looked back towards the Lumen, frozen in realization.

… After … being the ‘ _second_ ’ to be _cast out_ … An almost crippling shiver crawled down his spine and he thought about the number ‘ _five_ ’ again …

The ‘ _first brood_ ’.  Brood is a term that is used for animals, not _people_.  He could have mistranslated the meaning of that though.  But, animals … specifically _birds_.

No.  There were _four_ of **_those_** … _NOT five_.

It would be best to keep this to himself for now, until he had translated it all at least.  Until he was more comfortable with feeling crazy to suggest this to anyone, especially the Born.

Besides … everything in the Lumen is just a _riddle_ … Right?

**_“Oh hell …”_ **


	57. 9.5 - Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/51df5f2ffc613dd5070d67aa2f26c9f1/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo2_540.gif)
> 
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/9334fc454acee962f61d9be59bcfe259/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo4_540.gif)
> 
>   
>  [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/95271e2e37340dec387269ad0f0abf8b/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo5_540.gif)
> 
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/01e4ab566f6deb1962a4a758a97ef6ab/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo7_540.gif)
> 
>   
>  [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/ac3c92340b0d14d5df4a5e181e78798c/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo8_540.gif)
> 
>   
>  [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/5fb3c5a647a6427a462d8d3709bfa1fa/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo9_540.gif)[ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/406a191c29170ae99c894a8b9c9677ec/tumblr_ohde7q19El1vi77seo10_540.gif)
> 
> ##  **“Can a bag of sand _struggle_? Putting added stress on the system?“**
> 
> ##  **– Thomas Eichhorst**

The plan was very simple.  Hit the three spots and set up the required receivers at each location.  The locales were a good distance from the epicenter of the blast and should be easily accessible.  Overall, Dutch was _very_ pleased that she wouldn’t have to go into the tunnels.

The city was in utter ruin.  It was hard to really fathom that it had been standing mere months earlier, because it looked like it had been in decimation for hundreds of years now.  The firestorm that ripped through the heart of the city had spread far and wide and even the outskirts were a combination of rubble and ash.

The first two receivers were set up without any issue.  There seemed to be _no_ humans nor strigoi in sight and this made everyone very uneasy.  Given the occultation, did the Master not wish to have free reign over the city at all hours?

But as they approached the last location, the reality of what life in the city had become was now painfully and sickeningly obvious after they spotted the first wandering strigoi.  They pulled the car over in an attempt to remain stealthy and watched the beast take the right road at the next intersection in front of them.  They waited for a few moments to allow it to get proper distance from the possible noise of their car engine, when they saw the next group come up the left road and follow the same path as the previous one.  Their curiosity began to pique as yet another small group of four repeated the same path.

“What do you think it is?”  Ephraim postured?

“Who the fuck cares?  They havin’ a convention of some kind.  We ain’t here for that.”  Gus shot down the question.

They would need to wait for a lull in the rate to make it past the next intersection without being detected.  Dutch wandered out loud, “Should we maybe go around it?”

But her question was never answered as all three stared in horror at the next small group of strigoi crossing in the same direction.  This time they had with a young human in tow.  From their vantage point in the car, they couldn’t make out their gender, but it was likely younger than 18 due to their stature.  The strigoi in the lead was pulling it along with a rope that was tied securely in a noose around their neck.  When the human staggered, the strigoi pulled harder to make it keep up.

“Oh my god … “ Dutch whispered.  This was the first human they’d seen today.

“We ain’t here for this,” Gus countered but he already knew that it was a moot argument, as Ephraim and Dutch were both checking their guns to ensure they had one in the barrel, “Ah, hell …”

“There’s only four of them,” Ephraim offered, but they all knew that any gunshots would likely invoke a downpour given the steady stream they’d already been witness to in the area.

“Aight … but keep it to blades,” and the three well meaning humans existed the safety of their car and made their way up the alleyway that was running parallel to their targets’ path.  They used the shortcut to find themselves in front of the path of the impending group and they laid in wait are the corner as the beasts approached.

Gus made quiet eye contact with his two trainees and pointed to let them know they needed to take point on the side of the building.

The twenty feet of separation slowly closed as the strigoi ambled towards their hunting blind.  Fifteen feet.  Dutch breathed in heavily.  It had been a while since she’d had to kill.  She hoped that she wasn’t wildly out of practice.  Ten feet now and Gus motioned to be quiet and wait for them to pass first.  Dutch and Ephraim would come out behind them and Gus would take the two in front.

It was a risk, as they had no way of knowing if there were strigoi on the same street, on either side, simply out of their view, but turning back was no longer an option and as they stepped out, the actions were quick and precise.

Dutch was first, as she connected her short sword with the neck of the nearest one, sending it’s head tumbling to the ground, and Ephraim stepped around her and speared the next one through the middle of the temple.  As she swung around to the first two, they were already down and Gus was smiling to himself as he forcefully pulled his machete out of the head of one of his fallen prey.

Dutch turned to release the captive, only for her to see them running in the opposite direction, dragging the rope behind them.  She attempted to call after them, “Oy!  Wait!  We can help you!” before Ephraim’s hand found its way over her mouth and Gus waved at them frantically to get back into the alleyway entrance.  More strigoi had rounded the corner.

“Shit,” Gus was quiet, but now it was too late.  Even if they hadn’t been spotted directly, the Master would know he just lost four minions and the others would come across their bodies, “We goin’ … _NOW_.”

But as they made their way back up the hidden alley, strigoi movement was easily discernible directly in front of them.  They were already attempting to cut them off.

“Here!”  Dutch called as she pulled open a broken door on the building to their right and all three Good Samaritans piled in, pulling it shut behind them as quietly as possible.  They had no idea if other munchers would be waiting for them inside the building, but it was a risk that they had no choice in taking now.

As they sat quietly waiting for the alley to clear, the noises that they heard in the near distance were almost too soft to hear at first, but slowly they were easy to decipher.  They were screams.  Human screams.  Continuous screams.

“Do you … oh my god … do you guys hear that?”  Dutch questioned what she was hearing and her own sanity.  Ephraim nodded in horrified silence, “What the _fuck_ is that?  What is going on?”

Gus tried again, “Come on guys, we ain’t here for this,”  but ultimately, he knew it didn’t matter as Dutch checked her gun again, verifying the chamber was loaded.

“Let’s just … check it out … right?“ she swallowed meekly and Gus nodded.  What they were hearing wasn’t something they could easily walk away from.  It was constant and terrifying.

“Aight, but first sign of trouble, we headin’ back.”  His two companions nodded in compliance and they made their way through the building, towards the direction of the noise.

They had come into the tiny back kitchen of a small fast food restaurant which obviously specialized in Greek food as the posters for deals and meals for various types of gyros still littered the windows and walls.  The posters were useful as they allowed them to spy outside without giving away their presence.

The restaurant was caddie corner to what looked like an older factory building.  It was red brick in composition and had an impressively tall wrought iron fence around the entire structure.  Two large and open gates marked its entrance and four large smoke stacks protruded from the top fourth floor, billowing with smoke.

A steady stream of strigoi were wandering down the streets on either side, both coming and going from the iron gates.  Some pulled humans behind them, much like the teenager that they had just freed earlier.  They tugged on them viciously, like cattle.  The screams emanated from the heart of the building.

“OK, we saw.  Now we go,” Gus was attempting to not cave on this point and he stood ready to retreat back to the door that they had entered.

“Wait … shouldn’t we take a closer look?  We might be able to help.” Dutch stammered as her eyes widened in worry.

“No, we ain’t gonna take a closer look, we goin’,” but neither of his companions moved from their viewpoints at the windows.

Ephraim immediately sided with Dutch, “What if the Master is there?  What if we just found his base of operations?  What if we don’t even need the receivers anymore at all?”

Dutch looked back to Gus who was rolling his eyes.  They both knew that the Doctor’s motivation was beyond just finding the Master.  It was obvious the Doctor was convinced that Zach might be within the building.

“If that’s true, then we gonna meet back up and bring the others.  I ain’t goin’ running into a building FULL of those fuckin’ munchers without Q.”

“We just killed four of them outside … if the Master is here, I doubt he will be for long.  I think we should at least take a look … now.”  Ephraim seemed decided.

Gus was getting increasingly frustrated at the situation and he locked eyes with the Hacker in a failed attempt to get at least her cooperation, “Aight Doc … how you even suggest we get there?  They surrounding the whole place.”

And Ephraim sheepishly locked eyes with Dutch, apologizing before he verbalized his still forming plan … “We go under.”

 

* * *

 

Without the exterminator, going through the sewer tunnels seemed more than just a little risky and Gus had actually considered letting them go alone at one point as he knew he couldn’t talk them out of it.  He caved as he realized if they went alone, they weren’t coming back.  He didn’t want to have to explain to Q or the Professor why he was:

  1. Alone
  2. Failed to complete his only task; they still had another receiver to set up



Since it seemed like most of the strigoi were above ground, they would survey the tunnels quietly and slowly to see if there was even any way to getting up and into the factory from below.  The compromise was, if on first exploration, there was no easy way, they would abort and retreat back to the car.

Gus sighed heavily when it looked like there was a vertical ladder directly leading into the heart of the building.

_Shit._

“Aight, two stay back and one checks it out.  I’ll go.  I don’t trust you _fools_.”

He bravely took the stairs and quietly pushed the round entrance grate above him up enough to look around a small, dark and closed room, likely a janitor closet of some kind.  He pulled himself the rest of the way up before motioning for the others to follow him.

“Aight, I go first … got it?” and they nodded as Gus pulled the door open and slowly peeked his head out, surveying the long hallways that stretched in both directions.  The screaming had come to a short lull and they stepped out, taking the right path and following it past several shut doors to another junction of a perpendicular hallway.  Gus motioned for them to go head as he would cover their advancement.

When they got to the end of the second hallways, they weren’t entirely prepared for what they saw in the belly of the factory.

Mr. Fet and the Professor had described the blood factories to them, but seeing one in actual use was far more suffocating.  Humans were crammed into the cages that lined the area.  It was obvious that the cages were made for individuals, but the quantity was operating at far above capacity.

There were a dozen strigoi standing around the machines, flipping various buttons to initiate the next round, and the trespassers watched in horror as a larger muncher reached into a cage and snatched a crying human from its confines, lifting it up and onto the hook, digging it deeply into its back.  The machine hummed as it moved the body along and the strigoi repeated the action on the next hooks until the cage it worked from was empty of its prisoners.  Then it moved on to the next overcrowded cage.

The humans struggled against the machine driven hooks but it moved along smoothly nevertheless until the first in line came to the metal body harness and its steel arms reached out, compressing around the fighting body.  The spears were fast, creating punctures in many locations and draining the body completely dry.  The arms released and the hooks pulled the body back out and swung it around towards an open hole door that emanated heat.  The machine moved to the next human in the line and repeated the process again.  This time, the man screamed and gurgled as his life came to the same sad end.

Dutch clutched her mouth tightly to stop from screaming and her eyes closed as the tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks.  Ephraim spun her around and pushed her face into his shoulder to prevent her from seeing more, without uttering a word.  Gus motioned to the right now and pointed to the office that overlooked the floor and Ephraim nodded.

The machines were loud and once they were near the base of the stairs that led to the office, Gus whispered lowly, “Imma check it out… you guys stay put. You hear me?” and they nodded.

He made his way up the stairs and listened against the door for a moment.  Nothing.  He pushed it slowly open and found the office within deserted.   _Shit_.  This whole endeavor was pointless.  He peeked out the window that had complete view of the factory and failed to spy any place that might house a hiding Ancient.  He turned and started to make his way back down when he noticed that neither Dutch nor Ephraim were waiting below.

“Shit. How’d I get stuck on the short bus?” he questioned quietly.  Keeping himself as low as possible, he looked around and spied the top of Dutch’s hat near the other side of the machinery.  What the hell was she doing?  But he understood immediately as the machinery ground to an excruciatingly loud halt and the strigoi suddenly came to life and began to move around quickly.

_Shit_.

Gus saw two of the strigoi take a few deep breaths through their nostrils and turn towards the hackers location as Ephraim suddenly popped up on the far side of the factory floor and whistled, “Hey Big Boys! This way!!!”

And suddenly it was on and the first gunshots came from the Doctor’s gun and hit two targets squarely between the eyes.  At least he was a good shot, if nothing else.  Dutch’s gun sounded next, missing its intended strigoi the first time, but hitting it in the head the second time.  In the confusion, the remaining beasts turned their backs to Gus’ hidden location to attack the two humans and he sprung to action, taking out four with his firearm and taking the fifth’s head with his machete.

The remaining three were down before they could even close the distance to the humans and launch their stingers in retaliation.

“I told yous to _STAY_ _PUT_!” he sneered at Ephraim as the Doctor ran back over.

“I tried to stop her … I _SWEAR_!”

“ ** _OH MY GOD!  Please!  Please help us!  PLEASE!  Please let us out!_** ”  Various voiced pleaded from their cages and Dutch ran to the control panel and pushed buttons until the cages unlocked in unison.  Pushing the tops aside, people began to climb out as more strigoi started to round the corner of the main entrance to the floor.

“We goin’ … _NOW_!” Gus commanded and Dutch emptied three rounds into the control panel.

“Have fun fixing this, you _fuckers_!” She sneered with glee as she pulled the trigger.

Gus looked around at the people who were now clamoring for escape as they clashed against the new strigoi who came in as backup.  He motioned back towards the way they had entered via the side hallway.

“This way!” and they were into the hallway and running back towards the janitor’s closet with only a few human stragglers following close behind.  The screams of the people unable to flee were loud and traumatizing.

“ _DOWN NOW_!!!” he commanded and he waited as Dutch and Ephraim braved the sewer first.  The three people who had managed to follow them were next and Gus took up the rear, pulling the entrance shut as he went.

“Which WAY!?!” a younger man screamed as Gus jumped the remaining six feet to the ground below.

“QUIET!” he snapped and motioned for everyone to move to the right tunnel.  He could already hear footsteps above and he recognized the noise of the grate being pulled open as they rounded the first corner.

Their escape had been too rushed and Gus knew they’d taken the wrong tunnel, but right now it was just a game of getting hidden before …

The younger man was down before anyone realized that the strigoi had come up the rear, and the second older man was stung before Gus released a bullet into its skull and then followed it up with a bullet to the man’s head.  The woman who had followed screamed in panic at Gus’ last action and ran in the opposite direction.

“No!  Wait!!” Dutch called and made a brief motion that she might follow her and Gus grabbed her arm tightly.

“We goin’ _NOW_.  You done enough already!   _The war NOT the battle_.”  The woman’s agonizing death was audible seconds later, “Move!”

They fumbled through the tunnel quickly until they came to a junction with another ladder that headed straight up.  Dutch tried to mount the ladder first and the Boxer pulled her off of it quickly, “We ain’t got time for that.  They gonna track us.  They can smell us.”  The steps behind them were becoming louder and more pronounced.  The number of the pursuers was increasing.

“Alright, then what?!” The panic on her face was clear and Gus motioned towards the full drainage moat to the right of the tunnel.  It had likely been the ending point for the waste generated by the human kennels above.

“How long can you hold your breath, _little miss Hero_?”


	58. 9.6 - Signals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> #### “Hunger, _**a poet once said,**_ is the most important thing we know, the first lesson we learn. But hunger can be easily quieted down, easily satiated. There is another force, a different type of hunger. An unquenchable thirst that cannot be extinguished. It’s very existence is what defines us, what makes us human. That force is love.“
> 
> ####  **– Abraham Setrakian**
> 
> ####  **The Very First Words of The Strain**
> 
> ####  **Season 1, Episode 1**  
> 

The next phase of the plan was well underway for the boys. Fet, Gus, Eph, as well as Setrakian had spent the entire morning in the basement, working on the ‘ _secure holding area_ ’.  There had been much discussion on setting it up in a neighboring house, just in case.  But in the end, it was deemed highly unlikely for the strigoi to escape with the Born on hand.

Everyone was surprised when the old man volunteered to help, but they gladly accepted his aid.  It would probably be best to get him away from the table and that _creepy_ book.  Dawn did not like that book.

She sat at her computer, not really doing anything of importance.  Dutch was getting the point to point system to work and all the code was already complete.  She thought she might be able to help the boys downstairs, but she knew, ultimately, she might just be in the way.  Her restlessness was getting to a point of being overwhelming as she moved her mouse around the screen without even clicking on anything.

Dutch was entranced in whatever music was playing through her headphones as she plugged away at her mechanical keyboard. The Born was reading a book, as always, sitting at the dining table.  Now it was just the three of them in the shared area and this made her increasingly uncomfortable.  He hadn’t spoken to her since yesterday and she felt like she had completely ruined things … as always.

She’d was up super early, unable to sleep adequately.  She was hoping that everything would be the same. Wishing with all of her heart that she didn’t fuck things up between her and another friend, but she already knew she had.  But he wasn’t waiting for her in the gym as usual and she saw him sitting outside on the front porch.  He came in after she’d been downstairs for awhile.

“I must leave for an hour or two … please lock the door behind me.” He stated plainly, without looking at her face at all.

“No training today?” She hoped, exhibiting uncharacteristic disappointment.

There was no response to her question and he left out the door quickly.  She complied and slid the bar back into place.

 _Crap_.

And now, she considered _many_ things.  Some things that she obviously regretted, some things that she would have to learn from for the future, but mainly she thought about it being time to leave.  She told them she would help them, and now that she had nothing left to offer, she moved her mouse around randomly on the screen and started to consider where she might go next.

She wondered many things.  How long would it take her to get home?  How would she even get there?  How much of civilization and society had fallen?  Getting back to California had never really crossed her mind, since it was … well … nearly the entire United States away after all, but maybe it was worth a shot.  Getting as far from their Master as possible was a good idea.  She knew with his hive mind, it might not even matter.

In her ennui, a familiar and comforting voice chimed in.
    
    
         “This was always just temporary.  We shouldn’t let it affect us.”
    
         “ _Yeah_.”
    
         “And it’s better if we get away, right?”
    
         “ _Yeah_ , I know.  It’s just–”
    
         “Nope.  We knew better, so we can’t pretend to be shocked or embarrassed by our actions.”
    
         “… _yeah_ … “
    
         “Hey … It’s O.K.  We will be O.K.  I promise.  We don’t need anyone, remember?  We aren’t alone.   _We’ve never been_.”

And she smiled to herself and decided to ask Vasily about finding her some road maps on his next outing.  Hell, maybe she would just go with him next time.  She knew how to be careful; she wasn’t a child.  Nodding in acceptance of her impending solitary fate, she decided to not be bored anymore and she opened the computer card game designed to remedy this very state and started a game.

 

* * *

 

Pulling everything out of the vault had taken the longest.  There wasn’t much empty space and many of the metal racks were bolted to both the floor and the wall.  But it was done and the room was completely bare.  The four men now stood at the kitchen island coming up with the next part of the plan.

“O.K.  So, we gonna just lock it up in there?” the Architect asked.

“Well” the Doctor stated, “Ideally, we will want to constrain it somehow.”

“And it would be best if it was unable to move entirely.” the Professor offered now with a grunted tone.

“Like what?  Restrained?  Like on chains?” the Boxer asked as he painfully remembered his treatment of his own infected mother.

“No, Mr. Elizalde.  Not chains.  Strigoi can still be problematic on chains,”  the Professor countered.

“Wad about a chair?” the Architect asked.

“Hmm, maybe.  Something that we can chain it to.  We can attach it to the ground.  Make it a real interrogation?”  the Doctor added.

The old man nodded, “Yes, it will work.  I’ve used this same technique before.”

All four men jumped in unison as the poet slammed something down on the counter in front of them with great enthusiasm, “How about this??”  Her smile was impressively wide.

They looked confused as they stared at the object and Fet smiled, “Haha, cute … but, nah, I think we gonna need something much stronger than _Duct Tape_.”

The smile on her square face faded as she scrunched it up into minor confusion, “Really?  Cause, it was totally strong enough to restrain Quintus.”

And all four men turned in unison just in time to see the Born look up sheepishly from his papers in silent horror and Fet laughed madly now, “Are you fucking kidding me?!?”

The professor even questioned the statement’s validity, “ _Duct Tape_ , Mr. Quinlan?”

“Is she serious?  You got taped up by a tiny little woman with nothing but … _Duct Tape_!?!?” Fet pushed yet again, his smile even bigger than before and Quinlan cringed as he knew there might be no end to the large man’s tape beratement now.

“Mr. Fet, **_do not_**.”

 

* * *

 

“I’m coming,” she beamed brightly as the men filed out of the kitchen and disclosed that they needed to go and scavenge some ‘ _things_ ’.

“You sure?  You never wanted to come before,” Fet countered as he smiled warmly at her and she responded by nodding eagerly.

“We should keep the outing groups as small as possible.” Quinlan stated from his position at the table, without bothering to look up from his book.  He’d been silent there for an hour now, after refusing to answer any of Vasily’s questions regarding the _Duct Tape_ situation.

“Ok … so just me and you then?”  She offered and smiled wider at the giant man.  She already had the firearm in her hand that Quinlan had offered her that first morning when she tried to leave.  

Ephraim was immediate in his observation of her weapon, “Hey!  That’s where _my gun_ went!”

Fet shrugged and countered, “Gus’ gonna come too though, cause I don’t wanna carry all the shit by myself.”

Quinlan finally looked up from his book and he sighed loudly, “We should keep the outing groups as small as possible.” he repeated in utter annoyance.

“It’s aight, Q,” Gus assured and smiled at the small woman, “We ain’t goin’ far.  Just around the corner to the corner house.  Fet saw a metal chair there.”

Quinlan was standing now, “With the signals broken, we have no way of knowing if that house is empty still.  There is no point in the woman accompanying you.”

Dawn compressed her brows massively to the ‘woman’ comment.  That was highly uncharacteristic of Quinlan.  Her face was completely clear in its conveyance of “What the fuck did you just say”?

“ _What the crap_?  I’m just as capable as everyone else … I was on my own for _months_.”  She argued in minor desperation.

Quinlan was unnecessarily vicious in his retort, “Locking yourself in a room for months doesn’t make you capable of fighting off strigoi hand to hand.  Regardless your physical _limitations_ make your presence a _gamble to the others_.”  His eyes found hers and they were cold and emotionless.

Sheer shock encompassed her and she whipped around quickly to survey the impressions of everyone else, when she caught the desperate look that Ephraim was shooting Quinlan and the realization sunk in.
    
    
        _“He fucking knows”_
    

The doctor shifted in his stance as he realized that Dawn was staring directly at him, full of accusation.

Always oblivious, Fet countered, “What _limitations_??? Did I miss something??  I really don’t have a problem with her coming, she’s a _little badass_.”  Vasily attempted to alleviate the stress by throwing a wink towards the woman now.

But it was entirely too late to lighten the mood and her flight or fight instinct kicked in with extreme vigor, prompting her to flee and she moved to go up the stairs while Ephraim stammered a slippery lie behind her, “I’m sorry … I didn’t … I didn’t tell him … he _heard_ … he _heard_ us talking!”

She stopped in the middle of her retreat and turned back to the big man, “Do me a favor … if you can find me some road atlases, I’d appreciate it.  I think it’s time for me to move along,” as she disappeared up the stairs.

Ephraim turned to Quinlan who was retaking his seat at the table, his annoyance was obvious.  It was rare that anyone spoke to the Born with this tone, other than the Professor that is.

“ _Seriously_?  Was that even necessary?  I know that she can kick _my ass_ , even with her _limitation_.”  Ephraim quoted the last word with his fingers.

Quinlan remained silent, as usual and returned to his book.

Fet, desperate to know,  asked yet again “What _limitations_?  What da fuck just happened??”

Ephraim moved into the kitchen and poured himself a drink while Fet waited for a response, “Nothing _new_ … Apparently, I’m just an _untrustworthy asshole_ as usual.”

 

* * *

 

“He told you?” She questioned him after she wearily wandered back downstairs later that evening.

Waiting until everyone was retired to their rooms before venturing back, she had debated to herself whether or not to even breach the conversation.  It likely didn’t even matter at this point.  Mr. Fet hadn’t been able to find any maps, but she was sure, being in such a dense and old residential neighborhood, she could find some when the time came.  Old people loved atlases and hated Google.  And regardless of what the Born obviously thought of her or her abilities, she didn’t need his _permission_ to leave the house and she would do so _whenever_ she desired.

He was still sitting with his back to the stairs at that damn paper riddled table.  She wasn’t sure how he could just sit there and do nothing really.

He nodded in response to her question and also verbalized a short, “Yes.”  There was a considerable pause before he continued, “But it was not his choice, exactly.  I was _persuasive_.”

She knew he actually meant _threatening_.  He did not bothering turning to her as he spoke and it was driving her intensely crazy.  The silence continued for an unfortunate amount of time before she caved and broke it.

“Can you stop being _dramatic_ for five minutes?”

Her words were shocking to him and he looked up finally and turned his body to face her, “I am not being dramatic.”

“Then what would you call it?”

His brow furrowed further.  She wasn’t sure making him mad would elicit the desired responses from him, but it was far better than him just continuing to ignore her completely.

“It is late.  Return to bed.”  He turned back to his paperwork in an attempt to diffuse the impending conversation.  It annoyed her that he seemed to think he could just bark orders at her.  When did he ever get the impression that this was ok?

“I didn’t … “ and now she paused … she was full of so much confidence up in her room after working herself up to come down and now she was chickening out.
    
    
         “We fucking came down here … out with it.”
    
         “Yes.  O.K.”
    
         “Do it!”
    
         “I will!!”

And she took a deep breath and continued to speak directly to the base of his skull.  It was actually easier to talk to his back then his eyes and she was grateful he was still being an ass and refusing to face her.

“I really didn’t mean to _offend_ you.”  She stood in front of the table about five feet from him.  She didn’t expect him to respond and deep down inside, she hoped he wouldn’t.  She would make her apology and go back to that painfully empty room and try to sleep again.

Now it was his turn to sigh heavily, “You did not _offend_ me.  Please, must we discuss this further?  The entire situation was … _is_ … embarrassing.”

“No, we don’t.  I just wanted to say I’m _sorry_.”

He shifted and turned to face her from his seated position on the bench again.   _Damnit_.  Her eyes plummeted to the floor in front of her and she began to rub her wrist again.  She was surprised she hadn’t rubbed that damn birthmark away entirely by now and she began a movement to retreat when he spoke again.

“I _apologize_ as well then.  My actions were … _regrettable_.”

Yup, and with that simple and powerful word, she knew she should have just stayed upstairs in the first place.  Regrettable was a little bit harsh and her heart sank with profound force.  No one wanted to be someone’s regret.  She’d been that before.
    
    
        “Retreat!  Before it can get worse!”

She managed a small nod while she continued her turn back towards the stairs and then he spoke again.

 _Crap_.

She slowly spun back to face the stoic white skinned dhampir.  This was it … the lecture that she knew was coming.  Suddenly she felt like she was five years old again.

“I hope you understand it was a dangerous _thing_ to attempt.”

She nodded in quiet acceptance and shuffled her feet back and forth, never bringing her gaze above the floor two feet in front of her.  The lecture continued.

“In the future, it would be best to kept your distance.”

This particular comment saddened her immensely.  She was hoping that with the apology, they could just move past it and things could return to normal.  “So, no more training?”
    
    
        “I knew it … we fucked that up.”

“It would be best if not.  I apologize.  I am sure that Mr. Elizalde’s lessons will suffice.”

“You said … “ she considered whether or not she should push the matter further.  It was the only thing she looked forward to lately though, “ _You said_ it would continue as long as I wished it.”

“Yes, I did.  But that was bef–”

“Before I _screwed_ up?”  Her eyes begrudgingly met his before retreating back to the spot on the floor and she fought the melancholy that wished so badly for release.  “I apologize.  Trust me … that won’t happen again.”  She was staring daggers through a very small piece of lint that she had noticed two feet in front of her and she focused on it with all of her will power, refusing to look up to his emotionless face.

“I could have hurt you.  I might still hurt you.   _Of all people_ , you should be understanding of _that_ fact.”  She knew he was trying to intimidate right now.  She’d seen him use this to manipulate conversations to his way many times.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she stated courageously as her eyes met his again.  And as he squinted at her now, her gaze retreated back to the floor again.

He was attempting to intimidate her yet again, “Then you are **_foolish_** , _girl_.  Do you not realize that I nearly **_fed_** on you again?”

The shock on her face was impossible to mask.  First, no one had called her _girl_ in a number of years, but the fact that he was over 50 times her age definitely gave him justification.  And second, _fed_ on her?  That wasn’t the impression that she had gotten from what occurred.  She _knew_ what his feeding felt like, right?  Suddenly shame over the whole experience melted over her psyche.  Had she entirely misinterpreted it that badly?  Was it so very easy to confuse passion with hunger?

 _Ugh_.

“Sorry.  I didn’t … ” but her sentence never actually finished and Quinlan tilted his head in response to the trail off.

“Didn’t what?”

“I didn’t consider _that_ it was just … _that_ ,” and she frowned powerfully at the floor now, her brow furrowing considerably more.

“While I can assure you that I am _quite **flattered**_ , I am sorry to disappoint you.”  This pause was quite painful to her.  “ _That_ was _hunger_.”

She smiled briefly and the memorized verses forced their way across her mind before she could stop them, prompting a silly question to escape.

“Well, **_hunger is the most important thing that we know_** , right?” She shook her head at the absurdity of the words and she hoped that he would not understand her reference.  The implication of that question would have been even more embarrassing than her rejected kiss.

He cocked his head to the right at the statement’s strangeness and the embarrassment was now apparent on her cheeks as well as in the flutter of her troubled heart.  In a haste to change the subject, the next words escaped her before she could stop them again.

“Oh … I mean.  I already knew that you don’t … I mean … _that you couldn’t_ … Dutch already told me.”

“No no, that is _not_ what I meant to imply.” and now his face was ripe with bashfulness.

Her square face scrunched up in defeated confusion, “Oh … so … just not … me, then?”

He paused for long enough to cause her to doubt if he would even speak again or respond to her question.

“I do not think you understand fully what you ask of me.  I am **_not_** _kind_.  Not in _that_ respect nor _any other_.”

All at once, her defensive nature reared its battle ridden head.  “Don’t _flatter_ yourself.  I didn’t ask anything from you.  And it wasn’t a _request_ … it was an _offer_ …. and you _declined_.  You aren’t the first to decline … you won’t be the last.  And … trust me, I’ve never expected **_kindness_** from you.”  She knew she said the last bit just to be hateful.  Fuck, why not?

“An **_offer_**?  What does _that_ mean?”

Dutch’s words sounded in her memories of the conversation that occurred above, “It doesn’t matter … nothing _needs_ to change, does it?”

“Dawn, I really do not wish to continue this conversation any further.”  There it was.  He was attempting to shut it all down now.  She was surprised that he had allowed it to continue for long as he had.  He had to feel that this was superbly childish.  She turned and took a step before swinging back around again.

“You still owe me.”  If he wouldn’t listen to reason, she could attempt to bargain with him.

This piqued his interest slightly and his face relaxed a bit, “How so?”

“I saved your life _twice_ now.  So, you still _owe_ me.”

“ _Twice_?”  He grinned as the mood continued to lighten a bit more.

“Yes.  Once from the sniper and once from that … _gunman_.”  She had to catch herself from calling him the _Shiny Man_.

He considered for a moment … “I saved your life by bringing you here to the Doctor that night and then I saved you from the man in the yard.  I believe that makes us _even_.”

She was quick in her retort, “Oh ho ho, I don’t think so, Mr. Born.  You can’t say you saved my life by bringing me here that night because you were the one who caused … _that_.  And no, you didn’t save me from that man.  That fight wasn’t even close to being over … I would have won.”  

She honestly wasn’t too sure about that last statement, she had been weak and wounded.  But that was also his fault, right?  In either case, he simply stared back at her with what looked like minor admiration and slight frustration and then he offered a small shrug to imply an unvoiced “ _perhaps_ ”.

“Why does this even matter?  You said you wished to leave, did you not?” His face conveyed something she had a particularly hard time deciphering.  Anger?  Hurt?  Disappointment, maybe?  Resentment?

“I said I would stay as long as it took to help Dutch figure out what she was missing … she’s already got what she needed from me, right?”

“Why do you wish to leave so vehemently?  Is it not safer here?  Where would you even go with the world in its current state?”

“You were pretty clear earlier.  What was it?? _My presence is a gamble to the others_.”  She knew that his statement had meant far more to her than he even realized.  Why leave?  Because she was dangerous to anyone she stayed with.  But the fire in her eyes could no longer simply be shared with the floor, and she locked gazes with him again and the intensity caused him to look away now.

“It was not my wish to drive you awa–”

“I am _**NOT** weak_.”

“I understand.”  The condescension in his voice was impossible to mask fully.

“No, you don’t.  I have _**NEVER** been weak_.”

He sighed so heavily that he was unable to mask the rattle that trailed it, “I do _not_ think that you are _weak_.  Trust me.  My words were meant to simply keep you–”

“In my place??” she pushed eagerly, remembering his wording and his use of ‘ _woman_ ’.   _Ass_.

His eyes finally found the right amount of courage to meet hers again and the simple words escaped his pale lips, “ ** _Safe_**.”

Awkwardness quickly shrouded his visage and he was unable to keep the gaze further, looking away, as the use of the word seemed to surprise him as much as it had surprised her.  He sought to explain it after its flight from his white mouth, “We have come to rely on you now.  I … we need your help … to find the Master.  You and Miss Velders are _not_ expendable, as the others are.  As _you_ taught me … it is ‘ _Job Security’_ , yes?”

She smiled slightly at his cleverness.  He always knew how to use people’s own words against them and to his great advantage.

“And _training_ then?  You said it would continue as long as I wished.  I … I wish it.”  She looked into his cold steel eyes and realized she was pushing for something that didn’t really matter anymore.  If she was going to leave, she wanted to do it soon.  Soon, _today_ would be _yesterday_ and … as she knew, _yesterday_ will always be dead eventually.

Her eyes pleaded for reason and possible compliance from him and he gazed back to her for a number of seconds before sighing heavily and closing his eyes tightly.  She expected him to shut down her request fully but instead his shoulders relaxed and he surrendered his hard stance, “Then it will continue.”

She managed a smile and turned to retreat back upstairs without another word.  She didn’t want to ruin anything again.  The conversation as a whole had been very depressing, but she still felt like she was walking away with a giant victory and she had taken at least three of the stairs before he spoke again.  His voice was more timid than she’d heard it before.

“The other day … when you _collapsed_ …,”  She turned as he finished, “What happened?”

He was already standing at the base of the stairs.  Sneaky, quiet bastard.  There had been no noise as he moved from the table.  She was hoping he wouldn’t mention what happened again.  The occurrence had been highly disconcerting to her and it’s implications made her defeated.  She obviously lost _that_ genetic battle and she was _just_ like her father after all.

“That’s never happened before,” she frowned.

“What’s never happened before?   _What happened_?”

She managed a small shrug before continuing her retreat from him, “Didn’t you get that memo, Quintus?  I’m _CrAzY_.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t the response he was hoping for, but he let her leave without any further questions.  Tread carefully, he told himself smoothly.  Did she think she was really _crazy_?  Regardless, he would require answers eventually and he walked into the kitchen and pulled the giant book out of the highest cabinet above the unplugged refrigerator.  Mr. Fet had returned with it earlier.

He stared at its cover for a moment and reread it again, “Rand McNally: The 2013 Road Atlas”.  The mountainous man had fought him on taking it initially.  Quinlan waited for their return on the porch earlier.

“Ahhh, comm’on man.  Dat’s not cool.  I ain’t doin’ dat.”

Quinlan had stared at him coldly, “You would like her to leave then?  She can give away our location if the Master finds her.  She continues to aid Miss Velders in our cause.”

And Fet had fumbled the map in his hand for a second, considering the implication of their conspired action, “I mean.  She’s family.  I don’t want her to leave … but dis ain’t right, man.  She’s not a prisoner.”

Quinlan had reached his hand out for the book.  He was allowing the man to think it was his decision, but he knew he was going to take the book no matter what occurred next.  It would be best not to make a scene of it though.

“We will give it to her when the Master is dealt with.  When the world is a safer place, yes?”

Fet sighed heavily and finally relinquished his find, “Ok, but no one finds out about dis,” and the dhampir nodded in agreement.

As he stared intently at it now, he knew he couldn’t leave it hidden in the house.  If it was discovered, there would undoubtedly be a fight.  So he quietly removed the crossbar knowing full well it was dangerous to leave the house unlocked at night, but he would be quick in hiding it at the very least.  He would _destroy_ it in the morning.

The rationale behind his action was that he still needed answers, it would be dangerous if the Master absorbed her mind and he … _they_ still might need her help.  Some distant and quiet part of Quinlan knew that wasn’t the only reason.


	59. 9.7 - Signals

“I dunno, Professor.  I just don’t trust that _blood sucker._ ”  Fet had been in a _mood_ since they started to work on the holding cell this morning.

Abraham was holding the metal chair in place, while Fet and Gus bolted and welded it into the concrete ground beneath.

“Where is this coming from now, Mr. Fet?  I thought you had moved past this finally?”  He was slightly annoyed at the _childishness_ of the big man again.  At least he had waited for the Born to depart before beginning to ridicule him again.

“I dunno Professor … it’s just … sometimes he does stuff I don’t trust.  I think dat he would throw us all under da bus if it got him da Master.”

Gus laughed out loud in agreement, “You ain’t wrong there, bruh.  You got _no_ idea.”

Abraham sighed loudly, “Yes.  But no more than I would as well, Mr. Fet.  He is a valuable ally to us right now.  More so than yourself.”

“Ah … Thanks Professor.  Dat’s great to hear.  Makes me feel so welcome, you know,” and Fet frowned with his thick sarcasm.

“What happened to cause this doubt again?” the Professor pushed.

The big man just shook his head, “I just don’t trust him, is all.  We don’t even know anything about him.”

Abraham had enough and stepped back, looking at the two men who were squatting on the ground, affixing the chair legs.

“Mr. Fet … I know more about **_that man_** than I know about _you_.”

The perplexion on the exterminator’s face was obvious, “What???”

“That man … _that blood sucker_ … as you are so fond of calling him … is Quintus Sertorius.”

Both of the younger men stared blankly and the bearded one innocently countered, “O.K. … And??”  He shrugged with his question.

“Quintus Sertorius was a well known Roman General.  His actions were incredible, even for today’s standards.”

Fet shrugged again, “Well yeah … how is dat impressive really?  We know he’s not _human_.”

“His physical capabilities were not the only thing that I was referring to.  It was not just his astonishing deeds of prowess that were exceptionally impressive, but he was also said, by [Plutarch](http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/e/roman/texts/plutarch/lives/sertorius*.html), to have been one of the most _faithful, merciful, empathetic_ and _ablest_ generals to ever have severed the Roman empire.”

Fet shifted a little, “Ok.”  His disbelief was obvious, so the Professor continued.

“Sertorius, unlike others of power at the time, was known for never taking a life to satisfy anger and it is noted that even with his continued success, he never grew arrogant with his amassed power.  After his possession of Spain, he made peace with its barbarians through converse and lax taxation, rather than savagery or violence.”

The two younger men returned to their task at hand and the Professor continued his lecture, from pure memory alone, as he read from the text that played across in his mind, “He was known for being _naturally unterrified in the face of danger_ , in _rewarding deeds of valour_ and in being _moderate_ in punishment of _transgressions_.”

The Professor laughed, “He was even known for having a genuine kindness towards animals.  He kept a special fawn, that was said to have been a gift from the goddess Diana herself, for a number of years as a pet.  Some say she was just kept to allow him to manipulate the simple and superstitious, but for the number of years he kept her in good health, I believe there was actual love for that animal.  So much so that she is listed in the history books along with him.”

“As far as his strategic capabilities, it is said that he defeated four Roman generals, who had 128,000 Roman soldiers, with only 8000 troops on hand.”  The old man snickered at the thought and continued, “I believe that was Cotta, Fufidius, Lucius Domitius and Metellus.”

Gus looked up now, “How do you remember all this shit, old man??”

Setrakian only smiled and tapped the side of his temple with his crippled little index finger and now recited something entirely from memory, perfectly, “ _Sertorius, was full of mature vigor, and had a body which was wonderfully constituted for strength, speed, and plain living.  For in excessive drinking he would not indulge even in his hours of ease …_ “

Now Fet laughed, “Dat’s for sure, I never seen him drink anything.”

The Professor stopped his recitation, and returned to paraphrasing, “He was known for always accompanying his men into the battle.  A fact that other generals had held against him.  He used his amassed wealth to pay for the education of an entire generation of barbarian boys, teaching them Greek and Roman and giving them assurances of authority.”

The Professor bit back the fact that Quinlan had later sold those same boys into slavery when they father’s had revolted against him.  That piece of information would not help his goal to sway the Ukrainian’s trust.

“He was a man known for his deep principles and mercy toward civilians, even in the towns and cities that he triumphed over.  There is an account of one of his soldiers attempted to rape a local woman while the entire cohort looked on.  Quintus had the whole lot executed for their indiscretion.”

Gus asked, “What the fuck is a _cohort_?”

“Around 500 soldiers, Mr. Elizalde.”

Fet gulped now, “Wow … must have been _some_ woman then.”

And the Professor nodded as he continued, “And that Mr. Fet … that is just the tip of the iceberg of what I know about _General_ Sertorius.  What was completely unknown to me until recently, however, was that he was born a slave and raised in the gladiatorial pits of the Colosseum.  He was known as the Barbarian Gladiator.”

Fet shrugged, “Alright, alright, you make some good points …” and he turned to noticed the small woman standing in the door.  He had no idea how long she’d been there, but her face was full of minor confusion and her next words were more of a stuttered statement than an actual question.

“He was … a _gladiator_?”

 

* * *

 

She had gone down to retrieve one of the younger men to help Ephraim carry something heavy down the stairs.  The Born was still MIA after their training session this morning, leaving as soon as they were done.  He usually didn’t go out two days in a row, but she wasn’t about to call him out on the oddity, especially since she had JUST got him back to acting normally towards her.  When she came close to the vault door, she could hear Fet complaining about the Born.  Curious.  She thought they got along?

She stayed back just out of view of the inhabitants of the little room and listened instead of immediately letting them know that she was there.  She listened in awe as the Professor recanted an impressive history.  In fact it wasn’t just impressive, it was fairly _intimidating_.  This was the man that they had reading from that creepy book upstairs?  Suddenly she felt more than a little awkward, and even a bit guilty, about forcing him to _train_ her now.  Surely _this man_ had better things to do?

She was stuck in that downward spiral of confidence when she heard the Professor say, “ _He was known as the Barbarian Gladiator._ ”  Then everything shifted back to focus and the penetrating memory of those dark words invaded her thoughts again:

> **The _gladiator_ has afforded you an opportunity …**

She fought every instinct inside of her small frame, that begged to be heard.  She fought every logical assertion that her _human_ mind demanded.

_No.  That’s not possible._ She had already accepted that she had just simply been … going …  _crazy … **CrAzY**_.  Wasn’t she??

Just like _her_ father … and his father before him.  It was just … in her _blood_ … wasn’t it?

 

* * *

> And I laid in your room
> 
> And it was pretty but it’s sad
> 
> ‘Cause it was all inside my head
> 
> When I don’t know what’s real or dreaming anymore
> 
> It’s harder than it looks sometimes
> 
> To stand up straight and look you in the eyes

She hadn’t walked in her dreams for several days now, so he wasn’t expecting it when he heard her leave her room.  He patiently waited for her to come down the stairs.

Curious.  He turned his head to the right to listen carefully as he knew he heard her leave the room, but she did not venture downstairs.

Quinlan was a patient man, but his inquisitiveness overwhelmed him at this moment and he made his way silently upstairs to survey.  However, what he found did not satiate his curiosity, but only drove it further.  She was standing in front of the Professor’s room, completely still, with the palm of her right hand flat on the wood of the door.

He considered whether to just leave her there, and then he saw her hand go down to the handle and try it.  The jiggle was loud and he stepped forward to pull her back before she woke the old man.  Luckily Abraham’s paranoia over the book caused him to lock the door each night so it had prevented her from entering.

A humorous scene played out in his head as he pulled her shoulders back and navigated her into her own room.  He wondered if the door had been unlocked, if she would have just crawled into bed with the old man, as she had tried to do on the couch below.  He smiled at the thought of it and the surprise the old man would feel the next morning.

His smile faded as a much less humorous and slightly jarring thought crossed his mind next.  He wondered what she would have done had he been actually sleeping on the couch when she had attempted to lay down before.  He pondered whether she would have just crawled up beside him to sleep.  Quinlan blinked.

_Stay on task, Quintus_ , he commanded himself sharply and directed her back into her own bed.  Instead of troubling himself with _this_ again, perhaps he should ask Mr. Fet about installing a crossbar on her door tomorrow.  They had been busy downstairs, but it seemed like it might be an easy task for the man to accomplish quickly.  He nodded and resolved himself to at least ask.  It was simply silly for him to have to put her back into bed himself.  Right?

She repeated the same actions as before, she closed her eyes and was completely still when her head hit the pillow again.  Quinlan, however, hesitated slightly as he pulled the covers up and over her and his eyes grew wide in mild horror as her eyes opened timidly.

The shock of seeing the dhampir standing over her, with her sheet in his grasp, caused a severe and immediate reaction.  Her eyes grew wider than his and she instinctively grabbed the sheet out his grasp as she sat up in the bed, pulling the blanket firmly to her chest in a defensive manner.

“Quintus?” she managed and his hands opened showing both palms to her in a surrendering fashion.  Her heart raced.

“I am sorry … sorry … I did not intend …” he stuttered as embarrassment overwhelmed his ability to say anything concise.

“What’s wrong?  What’s going on?” the initial panic of her quick awakening wore off and her heart began to calm as she stared at him.

“I am sorry.  You were _walking_ …”  He managed.

“I … _Sleep_ walking?”  She questioned and he nodded and her free hand went up to her forehead in response, “Oh my god … I’m so sorry.  Sometimes I do that … what did I do??”

“You almost woke the Professor.  It was unusual … you usually just check the front door before returning to bed.”

She blinked at this, “Wait … I’ve been doing it a lot??”

“Yes … several times at least.  Is it not normal?”

She shook her head now and sighed heavily, “I mean … not that often.  Usually once every couple of months or so … but I guess I really wouldn’t know, would I?  It’s been a long time since I didn’t sleep _alone_.”

The escape of the last words was unintentional and she shook her head again, bringing her hand down from her forehead and gripping the sheet tightly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It did not seem important.  It seems to be a dangerous thing though.”

“Yeah … I know.  It’s not like I can just turn it off,” she frowned at his words, assuming they were another attempt to lecture her.

“No, that is not what I meant,” and he sighed.  He never managed to select the right words to convey his thoughts, it seemed, “It would be a dangerous thing … if you were alone.”

“I’ve managed …” she shrugged at his obvious statement.

Quinlan nodded and verbalized a “hmm” as he turned to take his leave when she timidly spoke from behind him.

“Is it true that you were a _gladiator_?”

He turned back to the woman who was sitting up in her bed and her eyes were no longer wide with shock, but were now wide with wonder.

“I was.  Have you been speaking with the Professor?”

She smiled now, “He said you were a general too?”

“I was, yes.” This caused Quinlan to smile.

“And you were–”

He did not allow her next sentence to finish. Quinlan did not like to speak about himself.  He’d learned over the years to keep things private.  Humans were known for jumping to conclusions and judging him if they felt like they knew him, “You should go back to sleep.  I apologize for waking you.”

“Hmmm … “ she frowned, “You kinda scared the shit out of me.  I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep for a while.”

He knew she spoke the truth, he could still hear her elevated heart rate and her defiance was in full swing now and she pushed again, “He said you used to have a pet deer?”  She furrowed her nose at this, “What was that like?  Can you ride those?”

And a small and rattled laugh escaped his throat.  Quinlan laughed so rarely that he was caught off guard by it initially, “Yes, I did … and _no_ , I would not recommend trying to ride one.”

“Even yours?  It wasn’t domesticated?”

He took several steps back towards the bed as he answered, “No, she was quite domesticated, but they are not like horses … there is a defiance to them that would make that act dangerous.  They are also far more fragile.” Quinlan thought how fitting that his fawn was both defiant as well as fragile, looking at the curious face of his poet now.

“Did you name her?” and Dawn shuffled over closer to the middle of the double sized bed, holding her sheet in place as she did.  She looked the open space on the bed that she had just made for him, offering him a seat and he complied, sitting on the edge and turning to face her.

“Her name was _Roxana_.”  He said as he wondered if she would ask its latin meaning.  He wished her to question it, but she did not.  He remembered back to that moment as she told him her false name in that concrete room and how much it had pleased him.   _Roxana_ meant ’ _dawn_ ’.

“She was offered to me by a plebian named _Spanus_.  She was quite beautiful, entirely white, just like I … _very unique_.”  Dawn giggled at his word usage and he turned to her perplexed as she said softly, “Hehehe …. _Spanus_ was a _Pleb_.”

And Quinlan became lost as he found himself talking freely, needing less and less questions from her to pry his responses loose … though she did ask questions.   _Many_ questions.  Questions about being a gladiator, about being a general and later a senator.  Questions about his worship of the ancient gods and of his battle against the four great Generals in their pursuit of Spain.

He was not sure how long he had spoke but he was certain it had been at least an hour.  At one point, she laid back down, nestled into her blanket and just listened intently with her head buried back into her pillow and following her lead, he laid back on the bed fully.  At first, he had turned to face her inquisitive face but found her searching eyes distracting and shifted so he stared at the ceiling while he recanted many, many things.

He was in the middle of one of his most favored tales of **_how the wind itself_** had aided him in defeating the _Characitani_ people who had lived inside of mountains in amazing caves, just beyond the river _Tagonius_ when he heard her breathing deepen suddenly.

He turned his head to see that she had fallen back to sleep.  It was too bad, he would have liked to have finished _that_ story in particular.  It was one that he was most proud of and he waited for a few more minutes, staring quietly at the ceiling.  Eventually he stealthily retreated from the bed without waking her again and resolved to finish the tale later.


	60. Interlude 6 - The Keepers of the Great Fire

## The Keepers of the Great Fire

There is a [prophecy](http://www.earthmothercrying.org/IroquoisProphecy.htm) shared among the five great tribes of the Haudenosaunee, the Iroquois Confederacy.  It was a prophecy that was foretold by the [Great Peacemaker](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Peacemaker) himself, **Deganawida** in 1451 AD, whose exact lineage is unknown as some of the stories claim that he was born of a virgin mother and he was a gift from _the Great Spirit_ himself.

His prophecy tells of a friendship between the Indian and the _white_ _serpent_.  This _white serpent_ would eventually betray their friendship and a great battle would result between this _serpent_ and a _red serpent_.  It is said that during this fight a single hair would be pulled from the head of the _white serpent_ and a great wind would carry it into the hands of the _black serpent_ , who had been watching the fight from afar.  As the younger _serpent_ studied this hair, it would transform into a _white woman_ and she would whisper things that he knew to be true.  He will ask her to whisper them to him again before gently setting her on the safety of a nearby rock with great love and respect.  Infuriated by what she has confided to him, he leaves her there and joins the battle with such speed and anger that he defeats both the _red_ and the _white_ battle weary reptiles.

This tale was only one of the many things the prophet, known to his people as _Two River Currents Flowing Together,_ was attributed with.  He was also said to have single handedly brokered peace to the five warring nations into what was known as the _The Great League of Peace_ , ending a tradition of savagery and cannibalism.  This treaty included the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca.

The Mohawk People, “ _People of the Flint Place_ ”, were the easternmost tribe.  They were known as the **Keepers of the Eastern Door**.

  The Oneida People, “ _People of the Upright Stone_ ”, were the second most eastern tribe.  

The Onondaga People, “ _Hill People_ ”, were the centermost tribe.  They were known as the **Keepers of the Great Fire**.  The guardians of the sacred lake itself.

The Cayuga People, “ _Canoe Carry Place_ ”, were the second westernmost tribe.

The Seneca People, “ _Stone Place_ ”, were the westernmost tribe.  They were known as the **Keepers of the Western Door**.

This confederacy was charged with protecting the land of northeast America, specifically the land surrounding the Great Lakes and centering just south of Lake Ontario.

Before he was _the Great Peacemaker_ , he was just a man, having only recently left his boyhood behind.  And as most politicians, he was simply just a figurehead that day he invited the five distinct tribes to meet with him on the shores of their most sacred lake.

 

* * *

 

The young man sat in the driest part of the muddy shore, as he picked up rocks and threw them into the crystal water of the lake.  He sighed heavily and he looked into the sky as terror over his impending day encompassed him.  He thought of many things, but the memories of the serpent dream stole most of his focus from it.  He had been having it since he could remember anything at all and it was always the same, however its ordering regularly fluctuated.

To his people, dreams were the single most important spiritual guidance that existed.  It is the mechanism by which _the Great Spirit_ would communicate directly. The young man did not understand what it was trying to tell him but his contemplation was interrupted as he noticed suddenly the ever so slight breeze that brushed over him and the bugs that accompanied it.  Everything seemed to come alive around him all at once.  He knew his friend was close, as he always seemed to bring _life_ with him.  Deganawida knew this was true, because _the Great Spirit_ always accompanied _his friend._

“I can hear your nerves from a mile away, _Two Rivers_.”  The deep voice sounded from behind the young man and he cringed slightly.  The god never seemed to get his name right and now he had simply stopped trying to correct him.

“I believe you would be nervous as well, _Great Thunderer,_ if you were capable of dying.”  He retorted and chucked another stone into the still waters.  There were no ripples as the lake seemed to just absorb the gravity of the stone with complete peace.

“Perhaps so, but you should have no worries, _my friend_.  Today is a good day.  I promise you.  I _always_ keep my promises.”

Deganawida stood and turned to face his silver companion.  The sight of **_[Hinon](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.native-languages.org%2Fmorelegends%2Fhinon.htm&t=NzE3ZDA1NmY4ZTIwN2IzNjQ2NmIzY2Y5ZTI4ZTViM2IwMTc0NWM5MSxrUFVWZUNLcg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) _** had never failed to amaze him and even now, after knowing him for so many years, he gulped at the man’s intimidating presence.

His silver armour was always immaculately shiny and the light hit it at various angles, almost making it difficult to gaze on the warrior in full sun.  He did not bear his metal wings again.  Deganawida had only seen them once when he had refused to believe who he was when they first met.  He had only been 10 years old at that time.

Unlike his wings, his did bear his helmet often and it covered his head, hair, eyes and nose entirely, only allowing the masculine jaw be exposed underneath it.  Deganawida often wondered how he could see, as the metal had no obvious openings to view from.  Only on two occasions had the immortal removed his helmet and the young man been able to see his ever so slightly inhuman facial features.  Once when Deganawida was a child and feared him and once the week before last when he had instructed the young man to call a meeting of the savage tribes.

Everything about his face was seemingly human, save for the drastically sharp cheekbones.  His skin was much lighter than the skin of his people and a vicious scar ran down the left length of his face, from his hairline down to the end of the overly square jaw below.  The young man had pondered how _anyone_ might have gotten the upper hand on the eldest brother of the winged race of Thunderers.

His eyes has been weary but piercing.  He squinted often and the remnants of that fact were obvious in the crow’s feet at their edges.  His hair, though it was sprinkled with hints of white and age, was mostly golden in color and curled.  He always had the shoulder length locks pulled behind his head and tied at the base of his skull.

His _Thunder Staff_ was an amazing sight as well.  Intricately carved with spectacular designs, its silver shaft was as long as the man was tall.  Its top housed the 4 powerful stones, each of a different color representing the elements of the _Mother Earth_ herself.  Deganawida would often become blinded by the light as it reflected through their cores, walking alongside the god.

When he smiled, his teeth were perfect and white.  Deganawida would occasionally spy the hint of an almost inhuman fang from under his thin lips when he would laugh, as he did right now.

“Do not look so _nervous_!  I am here with you.  I shall be with you every step of the way, _my friend_.  You are not alone.  You have never been alone.” and he slapped the smaller man squarely on the back causing him to lunge forward to catch his step as the sheer power of the moderate slap.

Deganawida had always considered himself a very strong man, but the god surpassed him on every level, “Yes, yes.  As you have said.  I am to go into a meeting with cannibals and try to talk them out of eating each other.  You know that I do not like people?”

The silver man smiled again, “Yes, but if they try to eat you, I will just kill them all,” and he laughed loudly now and started to walk along the shore.  The young man hurriedly followed him.

“This is assuming that you are actually real.  And if you are not, and you are just in my head, then I will be walking into my certain death.”  It was true.  Deganawida considered this already.  When he had told his mother of the _Thunder God_ visiting as a boy, she hadn’t exactly been believing and Hinon had never appeared when anyone else was present.

The silver man stopped and turned, “Oh please.  We both know that you are not crazy, _my friend_.”  The smile was even fiercer and the young man caught a glimpse of a hidden fang.

“So the plan is … when they will not listen to reason, we can simply move past this entire idea?”

The immortal sighed, “You have so little faith in yourself, Two Rivers.  I have seen your mind and your fire from when you were but a child.  You were chosen for this path even before you were born.”

“Yes.  Yes.  As you are so fond of telling me this.  Without your help, I would not have even been born.”  The young man finished the next words that he knew the god would throw at him and then frowned again, stuttering in his step, “They … They think that I am a _holy man_ … they are expecting me to show them that I speak with _the Great Spirit_.  They will know that is not true.  They will see into my heart and know that I speak lies.”

“Why do you think yourself a liar?  You do speak for _the Great Spirit_ … You speak with me and I am his representative.  Trust me, I will provide any proof that you may require … _when_ you require it.  I shall be watching the entire time,” and the large man continued his pace again before stopping entirely and turning to the sheepish young man.  He sighed and took both the man’s shoulders in his grip, looking him squarely in the eyes.

“I cannot force you to do this.  I cannot force you to do _anything, Two Rivers_.  If you wish to go home and leave this trouble behind, it will not be held against you.  You will pass up my indebtedness, however.”  And he released the man and continued to walk the shore again.

Deganawida quickly followed again, “No.  I know that I must do this.  What you have offered is more than any man can pass up.  You still promise this?”

“I have made a pledge to you and it is one that I promise to always keep, _Two Rivers_.  I have never broken a promise.”

“Please, tell it to me again,” he wished the words to afford him the strength to continue with his burden.

“For as long as I draw breath in this plane and the next, I shall protect you and your children.  I promise you an everlasting legacy, _my friend_.  So long as you and the _Nation of Five_ protect this most _sacred_ place.”

The young man nodded and shook off his nerves, “Yes. It is good.”  And he walked beside his oldest friend in silence for a number of moments.  They walked these shores many times together over the years.

“But you may not have to worry about the promise if I fail to have _any_ children,” and the young man frowned again and kicked a rock down the sandy path before them.

The silver man cackled at this, “Oh please … I have seen the way that you look at _her_.”

The young man blinked in false confusion, “Who?  Who are you talking about?  What do you mean?”

The cackle sounded again, “I am far from dumb, Two Rivers.  Do not fret … _**[Jigonhsasee](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jigonhsasee)**_ looks upon you with the same eyes.”

Deganawida smiled brilliantly now, “She does?  You have seen this, _Thunderer_??”

“I see many things.  Did she not offer her home for this meeting of the tribes?  I do not believe she would have offered a lesser man such a dangerous thing.”

“Yes.  She did.  She is a good _ally_.  She is … _powerful_.  She has a strength about her, I cannot fully understand the source of her courage,” and he stopped walking, fiddling with his hands as he stammered, “Surely, she would want someone who is … the same … someone _stronger_?”

The silver man did what he did best, and assured the younger man, “You are already a great man, _Two Rivers_.  None who …” and he paused suddenly, considering his words again, “Hmm … **_Very few_** … who live now would rival your intellect or skill for diplomacy, _my friend_.  It is why I enjoy these talks so very much.  It is so difficult to find a mind worthy of conversing with.”

“Can you tell me of our future?  Can you tell me, _Great Thunderer_ , if we shall have many children?” Such simple happiness was not something that Hinon had seen from the young man and he shook his head at the request.

“No, _my friend_.  I have told you before … I cannot see the future … only the _past_.”

Deganawida nodded in acceptance and the immortal continued, “And what I have seen in the past has given you what you need over the more … _difficult_ …  chieftains, yes?”

Deganawida nodded yet again.  Indeed.  The stories that the god shared made the young man feel as if he already knew the leaders he would meet today.

“Good!  Then we are completely agreed.   _This_ … _THIS_ … is a good day.”

“You have never told me why this is so important to you, _Hinon_ ,” the young man pried again.  He’d asked the question many times in the past, but the god had always managed to answer without really saying anything.  That was definitely a gift of the tongue he lacked.  The young man always seemed to say too much.

“This place,” and he turned and waved his arms to the water of the crystal still lake.  “It _must_ be protected at all costs.  This place is sacred to _the Great Spirit_ , _Two Rivers_.  One day, when you step beyond this shore of life and meet me on the other side, I will tell you everything.  An agreement has been set in place and your people will help ensure that.”

“Again … so you will not say?”

The silver man cackled at his younger companion and they continued their stroll towards the house of Jigonhsasee, also known as “ _New Face_ ”.

“Sometimes, my young friend.  Not knowing the secrets of the gods will ensure that you live a happier life.”


	61. Commission Art - 1

  
[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/153922563388)  


[Custom work from @bereweillschmidt](http://bereweillschmidt.tumblr.com/) [@weillschmidtdoodles](http://weillschmidtdoodles.tumblr.com/)

##  **Absolutely BRILLIANT!!!**  



	62. 10.1 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the Interlude. It didn’t get as much feedback, but I’m hoping that people stick with it. Its an important aspect of everything that comes next.
> 
> And thank you so much for continuing to read my fic! It means the world to me.

When she awoke to his voice this time, it had been on purpose.  His finger pressed closely to his lips to keep her from immediately speaking and she sat up, completely alert.  He was fully clothed in his jacket with sword sheathed.  He hurriedly motioned for her to follow and she grabbed her pants as she met him in the hallway and he whispered carefully in her ear, “Into the vault below … go now.  I will wake the others.”

She attempted to counter his instructions with an offer of help, but the look that she received was enough to make her comply without further hesitation.  As she fumbled her pants on and started down the stairs, she saw him enter Gus’ room next.

What she saw when she came downstairs was very confusing at first.  The place was a mess and it was obvious that Quinlan had accomplished this impressive feat all alone.  He had overturned a number of the pieces of furniture, including half of the sectional and the dining table itself.  He had scattered them around in a seemingly chaotic and random fashion.

She panicked as she noticed both her and Dutch’s computers were missing, but relief washed over her as she made her way into that cold little room and discovered they were already there along with all of their weapons.

It was a moment before the others filed in, with Dutch in the lead.

“Thanks for helping wake the rest of us, love … “

Dawn blinked in minor confusion.  She had tried to stay in order to be helpful and then she tried to explain, “But Quin–”

“Quiet.” Quinlan barked as he entered behind them and pulled the door shut quietly.  “No more speaking until I say.”

“What is going on, Mr. Quinlan?” Setrakian questioned while he clutched his silver book tightly to his chest and the sudden noises above shushed the old man into silence.

Quinlan stood at the locked door and listened intently towards the ceiling while instructing his companions to remain quiet.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan had finally been dozing when he first heard the noises from down the block.  He had sneaked out the back door to survey the commotion at the neighbor’s house and watched a search party slowly ripping through each house, one at a time.

 _Damnation_.

He was worried about this.  Whether or not it was due to the fact that the Hacker had unintentionally alerted the Master to their existence with her heroic act in the city or whether or not the strigoi were simply running out of food was entirely moot.  They had gotten to the point where the area in which they were residing was now being swept for humans.

Quinlan had to act quickly.  He could wake the humans and they would have to run.  In the wake of the running, it was likely that the strigoi who lined the streets would see them and thus, their survival and location would be revealed to the Master.  No, this was not ideal.

They would need to hide and in the process make the sweepers believe that the house was empty.  He still had quite a bit of time, as the closest group was four houses down.  He could have woken the humans to help, but they would not have been as quiet as he could.

He went through the lower floor and overturned a number of pieces of furniture in an attempt to make the house seem like it had been deserted.  He knew this might be a futile effort as the strigoi would likely smell that there had been humans there, and recently.

He took the two computers and the weapons that he could find and put them in the room below.  It was the most secure location.  Quinlan hated hiding in a room with no exit strategy.  He knew he could easily make it on foot, but the humans would not.  Now was not the time to retreat anyways, they needed this location and the machines that lived on the building’s roof, so the next moves would need to be strategic.

He listened carefully at the door.  They were now three houses down.  If they were lucky, they would make their way through this house quickly and if there was nothing of interest, the strigoi would move along before dawn.  Quinlan looked at the clock and noted that the sun would be up in less than two hours.

He looked at the board and flipped it around backwards.  Hopefully the minions would not draw attention to the bits on the other side.  As long as their minds remained empty, the Master would not be drawn to have a closer look himself.

They were now two houses down and Quinlan moved faster, making his way to the Poet’s room first.  He woke her and instructed her downstairs immediately.  Next, he woke the Boxer and instructed him to wake the Architect and he would get the Professor up.

As the last of the humans were on their way to the basement, he removed the crossbar from the front door and left it slightly ajar before meeting them in that small concrete room with the impressively large metal door.

“Quiet.” he commanded as he had already heard the Hacker making a fuss about something unimportant.  The Professor attempted to ask what was happening but the noises of the strigoi above them answered the question easily.

Quinlan stood patient, hoping they would not pick up the scent of his companions.  When he heard their steps on the basement floor, he knew they had not been that lucky.  And as they ventured over to the metal door, Quinlan remained completely still, even as they began to pound on it.  The noise of the hits caused the Hacker to jolt noisily and he knew they would have heard that.

He didn’t even bother scolding her a dirty look as the harm had already been done.  They now knew there were humans in the locked room.  Quinlan reached back for his sword handle to draw when the banging stopped entirely and he relaxed his grip on the weapon, listening carefully again.

The strigoi had eased their assault and continued to survey the remainder of the house.  He hoped that they were entirely in the clear until he heard two come back down the stairs and begin their wait.

 _Damnation_.

They knew there were humans here, and now he was even more convinced that it was just a sweep team for blood bags, as they were not assuming it was someone dangerous.  Quinlan smiled at himself now because the Master did know him quite well and it was indeed unlike him to hold up in a safe room.   _Good_.  The assumption that was being made was that they were simple humans.

They were arrogant in thinking that they could wait them out of the room.  His smile turned into a smirk and he turned to face his bewildered comrades and the mood lightened as they saw the pleased look on his face.  He would need to explain things later and he motioned for everyone to remain quiet.  They would need to wait for sunrise at the very least.

 

* * *

 

If there had been humans locked in the little concrete room, then the resting strigoi would have heard and seen them coming.  As the weeks rolled by, more of the turned were older and becoming faster and capable of doing more than just sleeping during the daylight hours.  But Quinlan was _not human_ and they did not see him coming.  He cut both of their heads with the same clean stroke as they huddled together in the far corner in the wee hours of the morning.

Once they were dead and incapable of contacting his father, Quinlan turned and finally voiced the next actions, “We must leave this place–”

Dutch immediately cut in, “We can’t leave, everything is here.  The dishes–”

Quinlan returned the interruption, “We must leave for a day or two, at least.  They will be back.  If they believe that it is empty, we can return.  They do not know that we are here, only humans that will have fled to another location.”

Setrakian hobbled out of the room and braced himself against the wall, still holding the large book against his chest, “Alright.  But where will we go?”

“I have a place.”  Quinlan stated, almost in passing and began to move towards the stairs.

“What da ya mean ya have a place?”  Fet called out after him, but the dhampir was already up the stairs.

“I guess that means we need to move our asses.” Dutch replied as she made her way to follow with Ephraim and Fet in tow.

“K then, we gotta grab as many supplies as we’ll need for a couple of days.  You wanna help me, shortie?”  Gus asked the green-eyed woman who stood in the metal door’s frame, almost timid to leave its confines.  She nodded.

“Aight then, chica, let’s get moving.”

 

* * *

 

“I dun understand” Fet questioned as he drove the van, “You’ve had a safe house dis entire time??”  His frustration was obvious as he scrunched his nose and turned back to glare at the half-breed while he drove.

“EYES ON THE ROAD!” Dutch screamed as she attempted to reach for the wheel from the passenger side and Fet turned back in time to avoid a car parked in the middle of the road.

“Mr. Fet, I have many safe houses.  Where is it that you think I go when I leave?”  Quinlan called out to the distracted driver as the van bounced violently to the right to avoid the obstacle.  

“I dunno … I din wanna think about it.  I thought you went hunting … “  Fet frowned at the thought of it.

“Mr. Fet, I have not fed on a human,” as he locked eyes on the poet who had sat next to the Doctor on the opposite side of the van, before continuing, “ _intentionally_ … that is … in a number of years.  Regardless there have not been any roamers for a least a month now.”

“Wait .. so dis is your _feeding_ house?” Fet shuddered at the thought of it.

Quinlan sighed, “Of sorts … _yes_.  It is one of _many_ stash houses that was provided to me by the Ancients.”

“They provided you with houses?” Dutch now questioned in awe, turning to face him with a confused look on her face.

“Miss Velders, you do not survive as long as I have without learning to plan for the unforeseen.”

“What does that mean?” Finally the poet entered the questioning.  He had expected her to question him much sooner, but she had been uncharacteristically quiet since he had woken her.  He would tell that she was worried.

“I did work for them, given they met certain conditions of mine.   _You always need an escape route_.  It is dangerous to not plan for one.”  He directed the last comment towards the green-eyed woman directly.

She frowned, “Well … unless you have a _kill box_.”

“ _A kill box_ fueled by a resource that will eventually run out?”

“Yeah, _run out_ when someone lights it on fire.” She frowned again.

Ephraim spoke up, “ _What the fuck are we talking about now???_ ”

“It matters not.”  Quinlan stopped his lecture and continued with a half assed explanation, “It isn’t far and it will be a safe place for now.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before, Mr. Quinlan?”  The Professor questioned.

“It mattered not.”

“Like hell it didn’t … we could have used this place,” Dutch was obviously angry that he had held this from her, considering they had taken her friend’s life to secure the location.

“I will not apologize, Miss Velders.  At any point, any of your human memories can be _compromised_.  I have learned to _not risk_ that.  Rest assured, the house was more apt to deal with human inhabitants.”

“Here??” Fet called from the front and Quinlan responded with an affirmative, “Yes.  Take the next left and park near the underpass on the left.  It is underground.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was right, this wasn’t exactly what they had been expecting when he led them into the metal door and down the spiral staircase of the underpass.

“What da fuck is dis place?” Fet questioned as they descended into the depths of the concrete structure, “This shouldn’t be here.  Trust me.”

Quinlan nodded as he turned on the light and the area filled with visibility, “Mr. Fet, you are correct.  The Ancients invested in many things.  They own many construction companies across the state.  They’ve built many such places in case …”

The area was very small and consisted of two rooms only, with each room being no more than 10’ x 10’. There was a large metal cabinet and a shower in the corner of one room that had no curtain.  In the same room, there was a single cot with an uncomfortable looking blanket folded on the foot of it.  It was obvious that it had never been used.  In the other room, there was a large double restaurant grade refrigerator and a small counter.

Dutch immediately went to the doors and swung them open as Quinlan called from behind her, “ _DO NOT_.”

“ _Oh god_ …” Dutch’s eyes grew wide with horror as the insides were completely lined with bags of blood.

“Miss Velders, please.”  And Quinlan pulled the doors out of her grasp and shut them.  He was not pleased with having to share his private space.

“Sorry … _Really sorry, actually_.”  She offered as she immediately regretted her curious action and her face cringed as she backed away.  “What the hell powers this place?”

“ _This_ location is powered by _hydroelectricity_.  It is built to take advantage of the water mains and the sewer drainage.”

“ ** _HOLY SHIT_**.” Gus called from the other room and everyone swung around to see the gangster had opened the metal cabinet on the opposite wall, “You been holdin’ out on us, _Puto_.”

Quinlan sighed heavily in annoyment, “Indeed, I have.  However I have been replenishing your ammunition when it was low.  Did you think your supply was endless?”

Gus shrugged and laughed now, “I guess so.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ man,” Fet said as he moved to get a view of what the gangster was eyeing.  The cabinet was full of ammunition in addition to two extra micro uzi submachines that Quinlan was so fond of carrying.  It also housed several extra pairs of the only clothing that Quinlan seemed to wear folded neatly on the bottom shelf, “What da fuck were you preparing for??”

“Apparently the _end of the world_ , Mr. Fet.”

Gus picked up one of the extra guns only to have Quinlan pull it out of his hand, “Mr. Elizalde, they are fully automatic, I do not suggest that you attempt to use one given their size and kick back.  I do not have any stock or front grips that would aid you in using these.”

“You gotta problem, bruh?  You don’t think I can handle it?”

Quinlan smirked slightly, “I would suggest you keep to your pistol.”  And he put the gun back into the metal cabinet and pulled the doors shut.

“It will be cold tonight and there is no heat … I suggest that you bring in the supplies and blankets that you brought and lock the door behind you before twilight.  I will be back in the morning.  There is an escape route behind the cabinet if you need it.  It leads into the sewers, which I’m sure Mr. Fet can navigate for you.”

The Professor spoke up now, with minor concern in his voice, “Mr. Quinlan, you won’t be staying?”

The dhampir shook his head, “No, I will return to the area around the house.  I will verify that they move on tonight after they search it.  This is secure, trust me.”

Quinlan approached the spiral staircase when he heard the voice of the Poet quietly behind him.  He did not respond nor acknowledge hearing her and with is back to everyone, no one could see the smile that it brought to his face.

“ _Be careful_ ,” she said.

 

* * *

 

When he said it would be cold, he wasn’t lying.  The Professor, being as old as he was, was given the cot and he seemed to be sleeping comfortably, even with that retarded book pulled against his chest tightly.   _Lucky bastard._

Everyone else was strewn about on the ground.  They’d brought a number of pillows and blankets, but it didn’t seem like enough.  The cold crept up through the ground and penetrated their fragile human frames.

At least Dutch and Ephraim could leech off of each other’s body heat.  There was an awkward moment before they all went to sleep when Fet jokingly offered to cuddle with Gus, but the look that Gus shot back wasn’t one of amusement.

No one offered to cuddle with Dawn and now she shivered in the dark, unable to rest, listening to everyone else’s deep breathing.  She was worried about sleeping.  If Quinlan had been right and she was walking a lot lately, she didn’t want to wake anyone.  She wished that he had stayed with them and now she worried about him being out there at night.

    “Oh my god … don’t be dumb.  He can take care of himself.”

She nodded and closed her eyes tightly, letting the stress of the day wash away and she succumbed to frigid slumber.

…

She wasn’t as shocked as she should have been when she felt his hand on her arm as he stroked it from behind.  She knew it was him because of the rattle that accompanied the touch.  Still laying in the position that she had fallen asleep, on her right side, he had come under the sheets and pressed against her from behind.  He was so warm and it was so _cold_.  His heat was so _very_ welcome.

She shuddered in the cold as he rattled again and his hand followed the trail of her arm, from its elbow up to her shoulder and then across her clavicle to the exposed skin of her neck.  Continuing in a slow meandering path along her chin as he turned her face to meet his.  He stared down at her mouth and she was expecting him to kiss her but instead he gently rubbed his warm nose against her cold one.

“Quintus,” She stated and she attempted to move her lips towards his when he spoke next.

“ _Diana_.”  She immediately pulled back and looked at him full of shock and he gently tugged her back to his face by shifting his fingers from her chin to the back of her neck, “ _My Goddess…_ ”

Something … wasn’t … no … she stared widely at his eyes as he reached his mouth forward for hers and she was attempting to meet his lips when she heard the Professor.  He was frantic or … perhaps angry?

“ _Dawn_!”

The jolt of the awakening was immediate and jarring.  She wasn’t laying on the ground anymore, but standing.  Her heart raced with such force that she was unable to catch her breath at first as she stumbled back into the body of the mountainous man who had come to the Professor’s screaming aid.

She dropped the object in her grip immediately and the silver book fell to the ground in front of the old man.  He bent and grabbed it with swiftness that was impressive for someone of his age.

“Miss Dawn!  What is going on?!?!”  He questioned and fiercely held the manuscript possessively against his chest.

“I … I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”  She spun around and saw that everyone was now quite awake and staring at her for answers, “I’m so sorry.  I … I sleepwalk.”

So many forces rushed her at once and she wiped the moisture that was beading on her forehead when Ephraim stepped forward and placed his hand there, “Holy crap, you are burning up.”

“I’m fine.  I’m … fine.” She attempted to push him back but her legs buckled and blackness rushed her again.

 _Ah Shit_.

 

* * *

 

“She’s ok.  Her temperature is back down.  Whatever it was, she’s alright now.”  Ephraim explained to his companions after leaving the woman on the cot in the other small room.

“What the fuck was that?” Dutch asked and Ephraim shrugged.

“Narcolepsy?  Hypoglycemia?  It’s hard to know unless I can run tests …”

“ _Great_ … more shit we gotta worry about now?” Gus was highly frustrated.

“Yeah but … what … what was she sayin’ before she woke up?” Fet countered the frustration and everyone but the Professor seemed confused by the question.  They had all become awake when the Professor had yelled her name, but Fet was awake before that happened.

Setrakian moved to the counter and set the book down, placing his hand on it and lied to his companions, “Sounded like gibberish to me, Mr. Fet.”

He knew exactly what she had been speaking.  He had been translating that language nonstop for the last week.  He even knew the verse in particular that she spoken.  Even though he was not yet done with the translation, he resolved that he would need to come clean soon, but to the Born first and in private.

_It was the Celestial Speech._

_Enochian._


	63. 10.2 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/1532ad1983f16663ada1d2a641dadf99/tumblr_ohmd25ohZ71vi77seo4_r1_540.gif)
> 
>   
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/30da08846244c90355f9ab926950de3f/tumblr_ohmd25ohZ71vi77seo1_r1_540.gif)
> 
>   
> [ ](http://68.media.tumblr.com/dbbbc795a9d4e08c3c8aabb711617349/tumblr_ohmd25ohZ71vi77seo2_r1_540.gif)
> 
> ####  **“Unlike _you_ … who lurk in your chamber, paralyzed by a _truce_ that has lasted centuries and has now been broken.”**
> 
> ####  **– Mr. Quinlan**
> 
> I always wondered … what truce?!? _**< – rhetorical …**_  
> 

“Mr. Quinlan, may we speak?” asked the old man as they re-entered their far more accommodating refuge the following morning.  Everyone was relieved to be able to return and no one would complain about the lack of privacy ever again.  There were, apparently, much worse conditions that they could be living in.

“Of course,” Quinlan answered, while seated at the table.

“No, I mean in private,” as the old man stood, nodding towards his room upstairs.  The half-breed cocked his head to the right in an inquisitive manner but nodded and followed the old man up the stairs.

Once Quinlan was inside the room, the Professor closed and locked the door behind him then moved to his dresser, opening the top drawer.

“If this is about the sleepwalking, I apologize for not informing you, but it did not seem important.”  Quinlan countered as the old man pulled a pile of paper from the drawer.

“Mr. Quinlan … has she spoken in her sleep before?”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right again and answered, “No.  Mr. Fet said it was incoherent.  What has you so concerned, Professor?  I do not think her intention was to _steal_ your book.”

The old man held roughly a quarter of the pages out for the dhampir to peruse, “What is this?”

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you lately,” the old man stated.

He flicked through the paper quickly and asked again, “What is _this_ , Professor?”

“These are the other sun-inked pages that I kept from you.”

“You kept them from me?” Quinlan was far from surprised.  The old man was just as cunning as he, and he looked over the drawings that the old man copied from the sun ink.  He did not recognize this writing.  “What _language_ is _this_?”

“That is part of the reason I kept it to myself at first, Mr. Quinlan.  I wasn’t sure what to make of it.”

Quinlan flipped through the pages and ran his finger over the drawings that accompanied the strange text.  Like other parts of the Lumen, it was littered with armored, winged men.

“Professor, _please_ just out with it.”  His patience was wearing thin and this was something that was unusual for the Born.

“It is _Enochian_.”

Quinlan scoffed, “Yes?  That is a _contrived_ language.”

“Yes … or so that’s the assumption.”

The sigh that the dhampir emitted was louder than normal and he attempted to hand the pages back in dismissal, but the old man held out the remaining half of the pages to him instead.

“These are the translations that I have done so far.  It has been slow, I’ve had to recall the language entirely from memory.”

Quinlan accepted the new pages and read with curiosity as the old man’s translations actually made some amount of sense.

“I have another four pages to go,” and he waved the remaining papers in his hand around, “But it will go faster now if we both help, I feel.”

“Does _anything_ in this text actually help us in defeating the _Master_?  This just seems like more riddles talking around the truth.”

“How much do you know about your _little friend_?”

Ah, here it comes and he prepared himself for yet another argument with the old man.

“The same as you. I do not think she is a spy.  Must we go over this again and again?”  Quinlan was immediately defensive.  Perhaps if she had saved the _old man’s_ life, his trust would more likely be granted?

“I do not trust _her_.”

Quinlan smirked slightly as he expected those exact words, “And so it seems as though I should not trust _you_ as well then,” and he waved the pages towards the old man in retort.

“Mr. Quinlan … Last night.  She went for the _Lumen_.  And she was not speaking gibberish …  it was verbalized _Enochian_.”

At this, Quinlan blinked, “Perhaps this is something she picked up from–”

“Mr. Quinlan, she was quoting the _Lumen_ … precisely.”

And now both men remained silent for a moment as the information was slowly absorbed, before the old man proceeded, “In particular, a sentence I had been unable to translate fully yet.”  And he pulled the papers back from the dhampir and found the one in question.  He hadn’t even known how to phonetically translate the symbols, but now that he had heard her speak them, he might be able to figure out a close meaning perhaps.

“A BIAL AR SAANIR ADAGITA A AALA DE KUAN … I had been able to translate this to “THE VOICE THAT CALLS TO THE PLACE OF … **_KUAN_**.”  Setrakian shrugged, “Well, at least I know how it is pronounced now.”

“Professor … **_Kuan_** is Sumerian … I believe.  If I recall correctly … it means _Heavens_ , more specifically, _Opening **to** the Heavens_.”

Quinlan took the papers back from the Professor and began to read them again.

“The first pages that I worked through detailed a punishment of an Archangel at the hands of _The Governor._ ”  Abraham pointed at the paper Quinlan held as he spoke, “And in this punishment, the offending angel was cast down to earth … in _**seven** pieces_.”

Quinlan moved to the next page.

“Then there is a passage on a Truce that was formed and a Promise that was made by this _Governor_ to _six_ of the **_seven_**.”

Quinlan tilted his head to the right and looked up to the Professor, “A _Truce_?”

“Mr. Quinlan … you mentioned the _Ancients_ not standing up against the _Master_ because of an Ancient _Truce_?”

“Yes … they feared the result of breaking this _Truce_ that they had made.  It was not very _ancient_ though.  It was made while I lived, only a number of centuries ago.  It occurred in the middle of the 15th century, if I remember correctly.”  Quinlan always remembered things correctly.

“Who was the _Truce_ with?” Setrakian probbed.

Quinlan blinked, “I assume it was with the other _Ancients_.”

“Why not act then?” Setrakian asked.

Quinlan furrowed his brow further, “What do you mean?”

“If the _Truce_ had been between the _Ancients_ , then was it not broken when the _Master_ first started his siege?”

“Yes, I even mentioned this to them–”

“Mr. Quinlan, if the _Truce_ had been between the _Seven_ , then I do not think they would have remained indolent.”

“You think the _Truce_ was with _mankind_ then?”

“Why would the _Ancients_ bother making a _Truce_ with _mankind_?  I don’t think they have EVER feared _man_ , Mr. Quinlan.  I don’t think there has ever been a reason for them to fear _man_ , and especially not in the 15th century.   _They were so crippled to act because of the threat of human based retaliation?_  What human organization would the _Ancients_ have ever feared enough to justify such blatant inaction?”

Quinlan stared back down at the papers and spoke softly.  He was slightly embarrassed for not having noticed the flaw in the logic before, “I am unsure.  The implication was always that the truce had been–”

The Professor was not kind in his retort, “Their _implication_?  Or _your_ inference? Did they ever specifically say?”

Quinlan shook his head as he replayed his many conversations with them in his head, “No.”

“The _Ancients_ have never had a reason to fear _man_.”

“What are you getting at Professor?”

“I believe the _Truce_ that paralyzed them was not with _humans nor each other_ at all.  I believe it was with this … “ as he grabbed the papers from Quinlan and flipped to one that was mostly a drawing he had copied with great detail from the sun page, “With _him_ …. With the _Governor_.”

Quinlan looked at the impressive drawing of the angel, clad in armor, his face completely covered with a helmet that had no openings for his eyes and his long curled hair flowing out from under its confines.

“There is only one that this _fallen angel_ feared, according to this, Mr. Quinlan.  And according to _this_ … They were brothers. And _he_ ,” Abraham pointed to the man in the drawing, “was the eldest of the _five_.”

Quinlan’s logical mind awoke at once, “Professor, these are just clues around the real truth.  The _Lumen_ hides things in puzzles for us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because, I have lived for nearly two thousand years and in that time, I have never seen any proof of a _divine_ _being_ nor anything that might suggest that this kind of _mythology_ is true.  Remember, _there are no myths only exaggerations_.”

Quinlan flipped through the pages before adding a last bit of confusion to the mix, “Besides, if they really feared some other force, then surely that force would have acted against the Master already, wouldn’t it?  If their inaction was somehow justified and they feared valid retaliation from this _Governor, **then why has he not acted yet?**_ ”

The Professor had no answer as he shook his head slowly from side to side and Quinlan continued, “Regardless if it was _man_ or some _divine being_.”

But even as Quinlan spoke the words, the memory of that voice in his head clawed its way to the forefront and he sighed before finally confessing it, “However I do admit there are things that are not yet _fully_ understood.  And … I have not been entirely clear with you either.”

It was now Setrakian’s turn to tilt his head and he asked, “What is it?”

“I believe there still exists another _Ancient_.”

“What?!?”

“I _heard_ it … _him_ , the other day … It was …”

“ _Heard_ him?   _Where_?!?”

“In the gym.”

“ _In the gym?!?_  What did he say?”

“It … _He_ said ‘Do not tell _him_.’”

Setrakian blinked … “What?!?!  Do not tell who??  Do not tell who what??”  His annoyance was quite apparent in his confused short response.

“I am unsure.  But I believe that _The Scream_ and _The Voice_ might be the same power … and looking at this,” he pulled the pages back from the Professor and pointed to the line and repeated it, _**“THE VOICE THAT SPEAKS TOO LOUD FOR THE ?? MIND**_ , I believe this is the _mind of man_.  Dawn was in the room and the voice incapacitated her much the same way the _Master_ ’s does to mortals.”

Setrakian looked angry at once, “And you didn’t tell me this?!?”

Quinlan waved the papers towards the old man’s direction and he relinquished his anger at once, reminding the old man that he was not the only one keeping things.  Abraham relented, “Fair enough.”

The old man took steps to sit on the bed next to his confused companion and listened as he continued his tale.

“But there was no one present.  And … I have never heard an Ancient from long distances.  That is simply not possible. The proximity needed is quite small.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t an _Ancient_?”

“This felt like their voices do.  This felt … _intrusive_ … but this was much _louder_ … more _intense_.”  Quinlan stared at the pages and looked at the remaining four still in the Professor’s grasp.

“If it was something that was stronger than an _Ancient_ , then perhaps it was something that was … _seven_ times stronger?”  Setrakian offered.

“I do not believe in _divine beings_ , Abraham.”  Quinlan rarely used the Professor’s proper name. “I have never seen evidence of the existence of _divinity_.”

“Perhaps you don’t, but something spoke to you, Mr. Quinlan. Something that even you … in your thousands of years … had not heard before?”

The dhampir shifted slightly before letting his next words escaped.  He knew he might regret giving the Professor any more ammunition towards the woman, “I _heard_ it, yes … but it … _he_ …  was not speaking to **_me_** , Professor …”

There was a loud knock at the door and Fet yelled to the men inside, “Hey, can you guys come downstairs for a minute??”

“One moment, Mr. Fet!” the old man called out and quickly got to his feet.

Abraham confiscated the pages from the half-breed’s hands and quickly hid them back inside his top drawer, “I think it’s best if we kept this to ourselves for now, Mr. Quinlan?”

“Because you do not trust **_her_** , Professor?”

“I think she’s hiding things from us.”

Quinlan gave a short laugh, “Ah yes … because it’s not like we are not hiding things from her or each other as well?  I trust her, Professor and I am a _good_ judge of character.”

When Setrakian was particularly annoyed, the look on his face was always gloriously angry, “Uh huh… because I’m sure it’s her character that **_you are judging_**.”

The furrows in Quinlan brow deepened, “ _I do not think I follow what you are implying_.”  Abraham shifted in his stance as he noted the menacing tone in the Born’s voice.

“Just remember _why_ we are here, Mr. Quinlan.  Don’t forget the _ones_ that we have lost.”

Quinlan stood and the anger that he held such amazing control over was slipping away through his words again, _“You **never** need to remind me of that fact, **old man**.”_

Setrakian’s arms came up in a surrendering motion, showing the immortal the palms of his hands, “I am sorry.  I know.  I know”

“And yes … for _now_ , we shall keep this between _us_.  Do you have an idea of what is on the remaining pages?”

Abraham was already at the door when he turned to answer Quinlan, “The first line mentions _those who have been **Born**_.”

Quinlan relaxed his anger and smiled slightly, “ _Ah_ … then you shall learn all of my secrets, Professor.”

The old man smiled meekly and turned to face Quinlan, “Perhaps, Mr. Quinlan.  But this section is actually referring to the [**_Nephilim_**](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nephilim).”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  [ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/154064002123)  
> 
>
>> _“What are you getting at Professor?”_
>> 
>> _“I believe the **Truce** that paralyzed them was not with **humans nor each other** at all. I believe it was with this … “ as he grabbed the papers from Quinlan and flipped to one that was mostly a drawing he had copied with great detail from the sun page, “With **him** …. With the **Governor.** ”_
>> 
>> _Quinlan looked at the impressive drawing of the angel, clad in armor, his face completely covered with a helmet that had no openings for his eyes and his long curled hair flowing out from under its confines._
>> 
>> _“There is only one that this fallen angel feared, according to this, Mr. Quinlan. And according to **this** … They were brothers. And **he** ,” Abraham pointed to the man in the drawing, “was the eldest of the **five**.”_
>> 
>> _Quinlan’s logical mind awoke at once, “Professor, these are just clues around the real truth. The **Lumen** hides things in puzzles for us.”_
>> 
>> _**“How can you be so sure?”** _
>> 
>> _**[(x)](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/153996793697/chapter-10) ** _


	64. 10.3 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not all scenes have to be all doom and gloom and Lumen. Here’s a fun one.
> 
> ♪└|∵|┐♪└|∵|┘♪┌|∵|┘♪ ♪└|∵┌|└| ∵ |┘|┐∵|┘

Setrakian was not expecting what he saw as he came down the stairs.   The smiles on his companions’ faces matched the absurdity of the cone hats that adorned their heads.

“ _Happy Birfday,_ Professor!” The chant had mostly been in unison, but Fet’s overly jolly voice called out the loudest as the old man started his descent down the stairs.  Everyone was standing around the table and donned ridiculously pink colored coned birthday hats.

“Mr. Fet … it is _not_ my birthday.” The old man attempted to refuse and the giant man shook his head violently.

“Oh yes it is … I seen your ID, Professor!  I dunno why you even still carry it!”

The old man patted his pocket to verify his wallet was indeed still there, relenting his possible denials and admitted defeat, “ ** _Habit_** , I suppose?”

“Well, HAPPY BIRTHDAY anyways!” Ephraim seemed particularly happy as he handed the bearded man a glass of clear alcohol.  Any excuse to drink early was a good day for the doctor.

Dutch produced an extra hat and Abraham attempted to pull away from her as she happily snapped it onto his head, “Nope!  You are gonna wear it, grinch!”

“Where did you even get this stuff?” Setrakian demanded looking around at the princess themed birthday hats and table cloth.

“Uhh … it was actually kinda sad … it was all set up in a house a couple of streets over … didn’t look like da party ever got going though.” Fet frowned at the reality of what that actually meant, “The cake was bad … but look!” And Fet stepped to the left to reveal a makeshift dessert.  It was a three layer tower made from Hostess Cup Cakes, “We improvised!”  The very top cupcake was sporting a single birthday candle that was in the shape of a ‘1’.

“Sorry Professor, we couldn’t find one that said ‘93’.”

As the Professor surveyed the impressiveness of the ‘cake’, Quinlan walked by and Dutch attempted to acost him with a hat as well.

“No,” he said and put his palm up to halt the overly eager woman.

“Mr. Quinlan, did you know of this?”

“Hmmm,” he nodded and offered a small shrug, “They were quite insistent, I am afraid.”

Setrakian had one more question before succumbing to the impending festivities, “Where were you hiding this stuff?”

Dutch was very pleased now and she pointed to the ceiling while giving the Professor a raised eyebrow, “The roof!”

“The hardest part was keeping the Doc out of the liquor the whole time.”  Gus laughed as he walked over to help himself to a cupcake first.

“Hey!  I’ve got self restraint!”

“Yeeeaaaahhhh right, bruh.  I saw you looking for it after the first day.  I had to hide it in the yard,” as the Boxer pointed to the ridiculously large bottle sitting on the table.  It was easily one of the biggest bottles of vodka that the Professor had ever seen and was obviously one that was purchased from a club-membership type of store.  The total volume of the bottle claimed 1.75 liters and it was almost completely full still.

“Should we really be drinking and celebrating now?  What if the sweep teams come back?”

The last question Abraham had was directed to Quinlan and he shrugged, “There are still a number of hours left of daylight, but I will ask that any drinking be kept at a _manageable_ level.”  Quinlan had already attempted, albeit unsuccessfully, to dissuade the humans from this festivity.

“OK!” Dutch said excitedly, “Fet found a couple of options … Shall we start with Pin the Tail on the Donkey, Life, or _Monopoly_?”

Everyone cringed at the last option, but it was the end of the world and there really wasn’t much else to do.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was now clearly the only sober one left.  He sat at the table and watched the humans continue to consume the clear alcoholic liquid.  There was now roughly a fourth of that ridiculously large bottle left.  He’d requested that they should probably stop over an hour ago.  It was dangerous in case they needed to flee, but he’d lost that argument and to the _Professor_ of all people.

He’d left to survey the area before dusk and the neighborhood was more quiet than he had ever heard it.  The sweep teams apparently were also picking up the straggling strigoi from the outskirts as well.  They were rallying somewhere and this concerned him.  They were running out of time.  But as he couldn’t hear any movement for miles, he relaxed his immediate concern and returned to the house, finding his companions still in high spirits.

They were all seated around the square coffee table.  Fet and Ephraim were on the floor, and Gus, Dutch, Dawn, and Setrakian were fanned out across the sectional couch.

“What the fuck, _man_ … that ain’t fair.  This game’s got it in for me!” Gus was not pleased and Dutch cackled madly now.

“You might be right, _love_.  That’s, like, the fourth time you’ve had to go to _jail_.”  Dawn giggled as she moved his little top hat into the corner space of the board and followed up Dutch’s statement with her own.

“There you go, love,” the small woman tried to imitate Dutch’s accent and wording, only to have Ephraim laugh loudly at her attempt, “Yeah, that was pretty _terrible_.”

Dawn shrugged and rolled the dice next, merrily moving her piece along while challenging the Doctor, “Yeah, I bet you can’t do any better, love.”  Quinlan had never seen her so relaxed or … _talkative_ before.  She unsuccessfully attempted the woman’s accent again and now everyone joined in trying to copy the hacker.

“Oh come on now … I do **_NOT_** sound like that!” Dutch pouted briefly before rolling the dice next.  The Doctor stood, grabbed his empty glass and headed towards the bottle on the table.

He filled his glass greedily with the liquid and then turned to Quinlan who was standing awkwardly next to the table, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Mr. Quinlan??” the Doctor offered him the bottle again and the lack of _any response at all_ was the same he’d gotten every time he offered the dhampir a drink and he shrugged, “Whelp, at least you are consistent.”

“K, then … Anyone else need a top off?” Ephraim called out as he waved the bottle towards the couch.  The short woman raised her hand, “Oh!  Me!”

“Do I look like a waiter?  Bring it over!” Ephraim downed what he had just poured himself and then filled it again and she complied with his order, grabbing her glass.  She stood, trying to step over Dutch to get out from the very corner of the sectional.  As she moved past the hacker, she attempted another similar maneuver to get around the Boxer, apologizing as she went, “Oooop, sorry, sorry.”

Her movements were exaggerated and sloppy.  Quinlan could tell she had been affected by the alcohol as he normally found her more graceful.  He also noticed the hacker’s foot slyly slide forward three inches, causing an obstruction that prevented the woman from pulling her foot cleanly off the ground.  This coupled with her lack of proper balance sent her falling down right into the Boxer’s lap.

Gus laughed loudly and awkwardly as his hands went to her hips and helped push her back to a standing position above him as quickly as possible.

“Sorry,” her face was extremely flush with color and she finished stepping over him.  Gus glanced sheepishly to Quinlan then turned his attention back to the game and attempted to roll himself out of jail again.

“Perhaps you’ve had enough, Miss Dawn?”  Setrakian offered as he took another swig of his own drink.

She shot him a sad look and offered up another weak apology, “No no, I just caught my foot on the table.”

“Perhaps _everyone_ has had enough,”  Quinlan was not pleased and his annoyance was more than apparent in his normally emotionless face.  He glared at the hacker now, who was still giggling to herself, quite pleased with the success of her stealthy action.  Fet was shaking his head.

As the short woman arrived at the table, she reached out to grab the bottle from the Doctor when Quinlan made a snap judgement and claimed it from Ephraim’s grip first, whose expression evolved from complete confusion to wicked delight as the dhampir tilted the giant bottle to his lips and proceeded to down all of the remainder of the liquid within.

“ ** _Ho … leeee … shit._** ”  Fet gasp from the couch at the volume and speed at which Quinlan inhaled it.  He cringed slightly as he handed the empty bottle back to Ephraim, whose delight quickly faded as he realized that there was nothing left for him.

Setrakian’s eyes were impressively shocked as he immediately questioned, “Mr. Quinlan?  Are you even capable of getting _drunk_?”

“Of course not, _Professor_.”

Ephraim looked extremely perturbed at this revelation, “Then why the fuck did you just drink ALL THE BOOZE?!”

Quinlan’s expression remained completely void of emotion as he repeated his words earlier, “As I said, I think _everyone_ has had _enough_.”

“Well … that _sucks_.” The Poet pouted as she stared him squarely in the face before following Ephraim and returning to their game, disappointed as Quinlan took a seat at the table.  His mind wandered slightly and slowly at first.

He stared down at his fingers for a few seconds and thought that they were possibly slightly numb, but he dismissed that assumption as foolish.  He’d tried to drink a few times in his younger days and it had no effect on him, but he pressed his fingers together and considered the volume and the strength that he had just consumed.

On several occasions, he’d shared wine and mead with his men.  It had been required for bonding.  During certain diplomatic trips and various festivals, it had also been required to drink.  And at one point he was badgered into Scotch when he had been in Highlands … and there was that one time in Japan when [Masamune](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Masamune) had shared that bottle of sake.  It would have been rude to refuse … His mind wandered over many memories and he had to catch himself.

None of it had _any_ affect on him, but he stared at the bottle, particularly at the capacity of it and then at the potency.  Standard Vodka bottles were 200 mL and he knew he had just downed twice that in a matter of seconds.  He had never consumed _that much_ , t _hat quickly_ , before. In hindsight, he probably should have just taken it from the Doctor and poured it down the sink.

He was still meandering through his thoughts and he was suddenly shocked to see the Poet standing a mere three feet from him causing him to jump slightly in surprise.  Was he even capable of being _surprised_?

_Oh gods._

“Everything O.K?” She questioned his strange reaction with a raised eyebrow and he snapped back firmly, suddenly embarrassed, “Of course it is. _Why wouldn’t it be?_ ”

He watched as she shrugged and reached to grab one of the few remaining black cupcakes on the far end of the table when the old man called out, “Miss Dawn, may I bother you for one as well? Perhaps with some whip cream?”

“Sure.”  Dawn looked around the table for the metal canister and saw it next to Quinlan.  She pointed to it, in an attempt to ask him to hand it to her, but he instead grabbed it and started to fumble with the top, attempting to open it.  He’d never opened one of these before and he pushed the tab firmly, squinting to read the poorly written instructions on it.  It was _not_ opening.  The tab said ‘ _push_ ’ and so he pushed again.  Nothing.  What a terribly designed contraption.

Dawn reached forward and tried to grab it out of his hand.

“Here, just let me–” and everyone on the couch stared quietly as the mini struggle ensued.  He tried to pulled it back and out of her grip while pushing the tab again, and he argued, “ ** _NO_** I can do it … just let me–”

And his preternatural strength got the better of him as his frustration at the small plastic tab’s unwillingness to comply to his pushes in addition to the poet’s fingers trying to pull it out of his grasp, the top cracked and burst into several small shards flying in all directions.

As the plastic cracked quickly under the pressure, his thumb continued its path pushing against the underlying white tip of the canister, sending the sticky white substance all over his shoulders and face.

Dawn took a giant step backwards as her hands retreated immediately to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with extreme shock as she gasped.  Dutch’s mouth had dropped wide open and no one said anything until a tiny giggle started to erupt from behind the Poet’s hands.

Quinlan blinked for a second and then everyone had joined her in laughing.  Dawn’s giggling was now in full force and he raised an eyebrow at her amusement over his … _mess_.  He hadn’t really considered his next action fully before he had already executed it.

He stood quickly and reached out to grab one of her wrists, forcing her to take a step towards him as he pulled it sharply.  His smirk was wilder than she’d ever seen and when the reality of what he was going to do next set in, she attempted to plead with him, “NO no no no, I’m sorry, I didn’t–” but her stammer was ignored as Quinlan attempted to push the white tip towards her, shooting the sweet substance over her shoulder as she ducked.

“No no, that wasn’t my fault!”

Determined not to miss the second time, he spun the women by her wrist so that she was facing away from him, grabbing her around the waist.  He brought the can up to her face and she fought desperately now, trying to push his single arm away with both of hers.

“No no no no!”  She screamed in frantic laughter and he shook the canister before unleashing its pressurized contents on her face.

Quinlan immediately released his hold as he accomplished his task and she spun around to scowl at him when the Doctor questioned, “Are you sure you’re O.K., Quinlan?”

He turned to see the amused looks on everyone else’s face and wiped a large clump of the cream from his chin off.  As he grazed his skin he felt that his skin was warmer than usual.  Was he _flushed_?  Could he even get _flushed_?  There would be no change in color, but he could feel the change in temperature.

“Perhaps not, Doctor,” Quinlan turned to face his victim and smiled as he found the sight of her current _mess_ amusing.  He quickly offered up an apology though, “I am sorry.  That was _unnecessary_.”

He then surveyed his black apparel and sighed heavily.  At least he had brought a change of clothes with him when they left the underpass shelter this morning.

Dawn had stopped smiling only for a moment when she gave him a fake scowl and then she started towards the bathroom, “ _Well_ … I’m gonna wash off then.”  Quinlan watched her walk away until she had disappeared from his sight all together and helped himself to the kitchen sink and towel, wiping the sticky substance from his white face.  He listened to the conversation that ensued at the couch.

Gus rolled the dice and sighed as he shoved Dutch in the arm forcefully, “Hey, I know what you’re up and ya need to stop.”

Dutch innocently stammered, “Me?  I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Fet countered, “Yeah, cause you ain’t an open book or anything.”

She followed up the statement, “It’s just a hint … you know … I think it would be cute.”

Gus eyed her, raising his right brow particularly high, “Cute?  Nah, chica.  I don’t need your help, if I want something, I’ll get it myself.  She ain’t my type.”

Dutch’s face became extremely disgusted now, “Ain’t yer type, yo?”  Now it was her turn to attempt one of their American accents as she mimicked the Boxer.

“I like ‘em tall, dark and exotic.  She cute, but nah.”

Dutch shrugged and added, “Whatever dude.  I think she’s adorable.”

Quinlan’s haze was fading fast and he quickly noticed that the Poet was standing in the hallway, just out of view, listening.  He could hear her heartbeat clearly now.

The humans went onto the next subject and he stood in the kitchen, feeling more himself for a number of minutes before she eventually stepped forward.

Dutch turned around and called out to her, “Hey, what is taking so long?!  It’s your turn!”

The massive smile that she’d had before venturing off to clean herself was completely gone and she towards and then passed the couch completely, “Actually, I think the Professor is right.  I think I had enough.”  Dutch and Fet attempted a protest, but she refused and a small smile passed over her lips as she stopped momentarily to wish the old man a happy birthday. She retired to her room, without looking anyone directly in the face.

 

* * *

 

They had waited until Quinlan was in the bathroom, changing his clothing as it was still covered in Reddi Whip droplets.  They were hoping that he wouldn’t return as quickly as he had from his pre-twilight stroll, but this afforded them at least a few minutes now.

Dutch and Gus were sitting on the back porch, passing the small, rolled joint back and forth.  Fet had found it on one of his excursions, but he refused to partake, claiming he’d never liked how it made him feel.  Dutch knew it was simply because he didn’t want to be alone with her.  He avoided those situations and she understood, sadly, but gave him his necessary space.

However she was a social smoker, so she’d invited the gangster along and he happily agreed.

“If Q don’t like us drinkin’, he ain’t gonna like this.”

“Oh please, he could probably already smell it.”

Dutch puffed and passed it back before she breached the subject that she was desperate to get the gangster alone for, “And … so … not your _type_?  Are you serious?”

Gus breathed in deeply and handed it back, “You are a serious meddler, you know that?  Anyone told you to mind your own business before?”

“I just … wanna know.  I mean, I like all people.  I don’t have a particular ‘ _type_ ’,” as she air quoted the last word to show how ridiculous she considered it.  She kept the herb for two puffs this time instead of immediately giving it back.

“It ain’t like that.  Ok, honestly … I’d tap that, but I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Dutch would not be deterred, “So like … Tall, dark, and exotic is what exactly?”

Gus puffed and handed it back, “Listen … I got _someone_.  At least I think I still do … besides, I ain’t _suicidal_.”   Gus whispered the last word as quietly as possible.

The woman’s face contorted in extreme confusion, “What the fuck do you mean … **_suicidal_**??”

Gus immediately put his finger up to his lips, instructing Dutch to shut the fuck up and his eyes sharply looked back towards the house.

“What are you … “ but her question trailed off as something clicked inside of her head, “What??  Nooo …… NOOooooooo.  You don’t think Q–”

He interrupted, clearly annoyed at her continued verbalization and he made a sharp motion across his neck to reiterate that she be quiet, “I said … _She ain’t my type._ ”  He put exceptional emphasis and added volume on the last part of it.

He took a deep inhale now and handed it back to the hackers awaiting fingers, “Besides … she’s fuckin’ **_intimidating_** as hell.”

Dutch nodded a bit at that one, “I think that’s hot, personally … although … I guess _she isn’t my type either._ ”  She offered up at the end, with just as much emphasis and volume as the Boxer had.  She wasn’t _suicidal_ either.

But Dutch giggled now and Gus brought his palm to his forehead, “I’d seriously stay out of it, chica.”


	65. 10.4 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> Bare with me through the next part of the story. I know that many of you will walk away from reading this feeling as though I am just pulling your chains a bit, but when I started to write this, my intention was to keep everyone as much ‘in character’ as possible, and regardless of how I would desperately like Quinlan to act, I needed to stay ‘in character’ for him. Forgive me. He is not a love sick puppy, he is not easily susceptible to rampant emotions. This is actually why I like him so much as a character and also what makes him challenging AF to write. He is hardened, he is callous, he is calculating. He always assumes that he knows what is best at all times … until he does not. But he still feels … and I think he feels more than a normal man.
> 
> In the end, I did not enjoy writing this. I’ve been dreading it from the beginning. I went back and forth between how to approach it best. For those of you that are Dawn fans, stick with it. I think everyone will be pleased at the end of this long, and sometimes infuriating, journey.
> 
> Also, this fic was completely written in my head before I even started to put it to keyboard. Because of that, there is something that happens in this chapter that is truly fundamental to the second Part of the story. Over the last week, I pushed ideas around to entirely remove this scene do to possible reader backlash, but I simply couldn’t throw the needed conversation somewhere else and have it convey the same power that it does here.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

She wasn’t sleepwalking this time.  She had just come downstairs to get some water in an attempt to ward off the impending hangover that was obviously going to take place tomorrow, but he was standing stoically behind her when she turned to retreat back to her room with her acquired drink.

“Oh!” She yelped and dropped the glass.  He managed to grab it before it hit the ground, still right side up and handed it back to her.

“I assumed you were–”

“Nope.  I’m awake.”  She moved to step around him as he immediately noticed the curtness of her retort.  There was also something missing from her normal demeanor and he deciphered a coldness to her usually warm voice.

Quinlan felt a particular shame over how he had acted when he had been … _cloudy_.  So he offered an apology to her now, in case this was from where the resentment was stemming.

“I am sorry if my action earlier upset you.  It was _childish_.  I should not–”

“You’re fine, Quintus.”  He nodded as she continued to step around him and walk back towards the stairs.  She had purposely not met his eyes and this concerned him.

“But you are upset nonetheless?”  He thought he knew _why_ but he was confused why she would direct animosity at him.

He should have just let her just go back to bed but against his own internal logic, he pushed the subject further, “Was it what Mr. Elizalde said?”

She blinked and added, “How’d you …. ?  … You knew I was standing there, _huh_?  Of course you did … _of course_ you did.  You _heard_ me, huh?”  She closed her eyes tightly and a defeated deep breath escaped her chest.

“I _hear_ most things.” He offered.  Quinlan could read her embarrassment easily.

“ _I really do not wish to continue this conversation any further._ ”  Dawn stole a page from the Quintus Manual and used his own words against him, causing him to both smirk and sigh at the same time.

She was still walking as she spoke and he cut her off at the stairs.  She expressed her exasperation with a heavy sigh and a sideways glare.  His explanation was direct, “I believe you ignored me as I stated the same as well?”

“ _Fair enough_.  But it doesn’t really matter … I just came for water … I didn’t come for a lecture.”

Her words were confusing to him as he had not intended to imply that he would be lecturing her on anything, “Why would I _lecture_ you?”

Her stance shifted and she turned back towards the kitchen when it was obvious he wasn’t ready to let her pass quite yet.  She attempted to confuse the topic next, “Why not?  You _just lectured_ me on this the other day?”

“On this?”  He pushed.  Was this why she was angry at him?

“Forcing myself on someone … again.  But it really wasn’t my fault … I didn’t–”

“It was not your fault … that was Miss Velders.  I saw it.” Quinlan was immediately defensive for her, “I did not intend to _lecture_ you, _honestly_.”

She sat her full glass on the counter as she folded her arms across her chest before turning back to him, “Then why are you pushing? I just …. I don’t want to think about this–”

“Because the last time you were upset, you wished to leave.”  He stated and stared at her eyes which did not return his gaze.

She laughed and it made him uneasy.  “I never stopped wanting to leave.  That’s the plan eventually, right?  There isn’t much that I can help you guys with anymore.” She shrugged and took a seat at the island on one of the backless stools and took an impressively large swig of the water.  Her frustration was still apparent.  “Wait … is _that_ what you are worried about?  You don’t have to worry, I said I would stick around until it worked, ok?”

She turned and grabbed her glass, certain that she had solved the riddle of his sudden concern and began her attempt to ascend the stairs again, but Quinlan stood firm.  She changed her strategy and she offered him a warm smile while she stated, “If this is payback for me embarrassing you, then you totally win.”

“You did not … “ Quinlan failed to finish this sentence and carried on to his next, “It is not _payback_.  I do not get pleasure from baiting you.”

“Ok, it’s not to embarrass me or lecture me … check.  I’ve already told you I won’t leave … yet, in case you guys _need_ something else from me.  Then what the fuck do you want from me right now?  To _pity_ me?”  Quinlan had never seen this level of frustration from her, even in that side yard when she had threatened to poke him with the little plastic gnome.

“ _I will never pity you_.”  He had pitied her once, in that small concrete room when he was stealing her life away and he vowed to never do so again.  She had no use for anyone’s pity and he understood that because neither did he.

“I promise I won’t leave until you get what you need from me … ok?  Can I pass now?”  She raised her hand and pointed to her room in mild desperation.  Quinlan could see now that her green eyes were puffy and richer than normal, as the color popped against the redness of the surrounding whites.  She’d been hiding them from him until now and he surrendered his stance on stopping her from leaving.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d really been preventing her and he stepped to the side in compliance.  As she passed him and pressed her small foot on the first step of the stairs, he offered up a quiet response, “For what it might be worth, I do not believe that Mr. Elizalde was being entirely honest.”

Dawn paused on the stairs and turned to him, smiling fakely, “Please don’t.”

“I am not?”  His question made no sense, but neither did her statement.  He should not do what exactly?  “Why must _everything_ be a battle??”

“I am not the one arguing here!” Dawn turned around and raised her voice causing him to press his right index finger to his lips and waving to the other rooms upstairs with his left hand.

She retreated back down the stairs to continue her whispered anger, “You are the one who is instigating!” and she thrust her full glass towards him, causing a bit of it to splash out and land on the ceramic tile.

“I did not wish to start an argument again.  I wanted to clarify.  You should not allow _misunderstandings_ to upset you.”

Her anger dwindled and her shoulders released their tensed stance.  She looked down to the ground as she spoke to him, “There aren’t _any_.  I told you that you wouldn’t be the last to–”

He did not let her finish her sentence and he demanded harshly, “ _The last to what?_ ”

Her astonishment as her eyes transfixed his was short lived and it faded to shame causing her to look down yet again, “The last to–”

“The last to _decline your **offer**_?” Quinlan blinked at the concept.  Had he missed something entirely?  “Did you make him the same ‘ ** _offer_** ’?  Do you make this **_offer_** often??”  His voice slightly raised in volume as he suddenly felt brushed with contempt.  His disgust in her was obvious.

“No, no … no that’s not what I meant … but … why would it matter anyways?”

Quinlan ignored her query and demanded an answer to his previous question again, “ _The last to what?_ ”

“ … to _not want_ me.”  And she shrugged as she grabbed her wrist again and started that incessant rubbing, sloshing the water that her right hand still held.

The statement itself displeased him.  He reached out and grabbed her hand to stop the interminable rubbing, “Please do not do that.”  He’d never let it be known how much that action bothered him until now.

What followed next was completely out of his control as half of his retort had escaped before he could fully stop it as his emotions boiled over uncontrollably, “I never claimed to _not_ want …”

He released her hand at once and suppressed a forceful strigoi twitch.

 _Damnation_.

During the conversation days before, he had been very careful with his words and he’d never actually admitted to anything, one way or another.  This had given him the control he needed without being forwardly deceptive with her.

She blinked for a moment, attempting to process his unfinished sentence … “Yes … Yes you did.”

“I did not.”  He was losing control of the situation, of his words, of his actions.  It displeased him.

“Yes you did.  You said hung–”

“There are _many_ different types of _hunger_.”

Her brows furrowed and frustration graced her spotted face as she finally looked back into his eyes.  “Then what type of hunger was it?”  He knew where her confusion was stemming and he understood that he was being highly contradictory right now.  He successfully and harshly pushed her away.  What right did he have to behave … _jealously_?

He should have allowed her to return upstairs without arguing further as even he had not yet fully come to terms with the exact type of hunger.  However he did know nothing good would come of continuing this conversation and he turned away from her, “If you wish to pursue Mr. Elizalde, I think he would be accommodating.  I believe he said that only because he fears **_me_**.”

“You?  Why would it matter that he fears _you_?”  Her question was unanswered, “Do … do _you_ think I should pursue Mr. Elizalde?” Dawn blinked, unable to fully digest what he was attempting to convey.

He considered verbalizing a response, but his imagination could not relent the image of her sitting on the Boxer’s lap, with his hands firmly on her hips and the smile that had graced his face.  He repressed part of the next twitch before it could fully escape and he took her hand pulling her up the upstairs without uttering a single word.  He closed the bedroom door behind them.

 

* * *

 

He had held her hand and pulled her up the stairs, and she said nothing.  It might have been shock, or even embarrassment, but it wasn’t until they were in the room and he was shutting the door _behind_ him that the implication of his action was more apparent.  She assumed he was just going to force her back into her room.  Tell her that the conversation was over and to go back to bed.

He had not.

Now he stood facing the closed door without turning around to her before speaking lowly, “I can offer you no _emotional_ attachments with _this_.”

“This?” Her heart raced slightly as she assumed she knew exactly what he meant, but it would probably be best to clarify.  She did not wish to embarrass herself or him again.

He turned to face her and his expressionless face was unnerving, “It is _my **offer**_ to you,” and he waited for her response, which came in the form of a tiny nod.

It was quite possibly the strangest ‘negotiation’ to _this_ she had ever experienced and instead of him approaching her as she thought he would do next, he walked to the dresser and took off his vest, folding it carefully and setting it on the top of the furniture.

He repeated the action with his undershirt and for the first time she saw those familiar scars along his upper back.  He turned to glance at her face briefly, likely picking up the increase that this reveal had caused on her pulse.  But he said nothing, turning back to his task at hand and removed his boots and socks next, folding them neatly on the dresser.

His movements were very mechanical and she stood still in awe of his strange demeanor.  She clutched the shirt against her chest and her eyes grew wide as she heard him detach his belt buckle next and pull the belt itself free from the loops of his pants completely in a single tug, setting it across the wood surface.  Next, she heard the zipper first before he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them, folding them slowly and meticulously the same way as the rest of his clothing.

Now he stood only in a tight pair of black boxer briefs and his white and muscular physique was more impressive than she had imagined, even in the small about of lighting that the nightlight next to the door was emitting.  He touched the rim of his briefs before turning to survey her face again.  She could tell he was considering removing them, but decided against it as his hands moved away and he turned to face her completely.  She had immediately diverted her eyes to his face as soon as he started to turn.  Her face flushed with heat and color.

His brows furrowed as he looked slightly disappointed.  Wait … _disappointed_?  But what could she have done to already _disappoint_ him?  And her mind raced along with her heart as she wondered if he was actually expecting her to do the _same thing_?  Was he expecting her to … * _gulp_ * … strip herself too?

He approached and her nervousness was frantically obvious.

Her eyes fluttered down, but only briefly, as she surveyed the musculature of his chest and stomach before she forced them back to his face, which was still emotionless.  He’d overcome half of the distance between her and the dresser when she took a deep breath and asked, “Ummm … so … _who whipped you_?”  She released her shirt and surveyed the state of her hair quickly and nervously.

He finished closing the distance as he repeated the same question to her, “Who _whipped_ you??”

“Ummm … I asked first?” He stood less than a foot in front of her now and she stared squarely at his chest as their height difference was very apparent.

She commanded herself to look at his face but she just continued to stare at his swirls now, remembering how sensitive they had been to her touch before.  She wanted to touch them again but she was paralyzed from moving.

“If you recall … it was actually _I_ that asked _first_.”

    “Hmmm … yeah he did … on the couch.”

    “Thanks, Captain Obvious.  Go away now.”

The next moments were full of silence and slight awkwardness as he stood perfectly still.

_God damn … what should .._

Her heart lurched and she unintentionally stepped back as he finally reached up towards her.  There was nowhere for her to go however and she found her back pressed against the wall as he tilted his head to the right, finally expressing some positive emotion as the corner of his mouth pulled to a micro smile.

“ _Sorry_.” She offered clumsily, but he stepped forward again, bringing his nose to the side of her head and breathing her in deeply before rattling as the air escaped back out of his chest.  He picked her up sharply and quickly by sliding his left arm under her right and pulling her knees together in his right arm into a cradle.

This sudden jolt caused a slight gasp to escape her and he buried his face into her neck, breathing and rattling deeply again.  His skin was marvelously warm and she laid her palm on his chest as he effortlessly carried her to the bed.  She could feel his heart beating under her touch and it was as thunderous as hers though he expressed no outward indication. He crawled across to the center of the bed on his knees before placing her down.

In all of her nervousness, she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t look at her in the eyes yet, until now.  His eyes focused on her lips and darted everywhere _but_ her eyes.  Her concern started to grow, as he usually looked at her in the eyes.  Something was off.

He pulled her up to her knees so that they were facing again and he reached down for the bottom of her shirt, starting to pull it up when she caught the edge of it and pulled it back down.  He attempted to pull it up again and she repeated her same action, thwarting him yet again.

Her brows furrowed with agitation as her eyes grew wide with confusion.  Was he just going to _pull_ her clothes off?  He hadn’t even tried to kiss her yet.  He hadn’t even looked at her in the eyes yet … and a sudden rush of regret washed over her as she questioned what exactly she had just agreed to do with him.  His next words only furthered fuel her increasing fear.

He sighed heavily, “You may leave it on, I _suppose_ … but I would _very much_ prefer to _see_ you.”  Even with his pleading eyes, she made no motion of compliance as she tightly held her shirt in both of her fists and his disappointment was quite obvious, sighing again, “Very well then.”

Perhaps she was being too passive about this?  She leaned forward to kiss him and he turned his face to the side quickly pulling out of her reach.  He responded by pushing her firmly onto the bed backwards.  His eyes still darted everywhere except to meet hers and as she attempted to sit back up, he grabbed the elastic band of her cotton sweat pants and pulled them down and off quicker than she could attempt a protest, grabbing her now bare thighs and pulling her down around either side of his knees.

_**Holy shit.** _

He was now above her on all fours, his hands squarely on the bed on either side of her head, yet keeping enough distance to not crush her.  In fact, he was not even touching her at all save for the the outside of his knees that pressed against the inside of her thighs.  He twitched once but rattled heavily with every breath that he took.  She attempted again to bring her head up and meet her lips to his but he turned away again, this time with a strict command, “ _Do not_.”

Why the fuck wouldn’t he look her in the eyes?  She was less amused by all of this as the seconds rolled on and now her concern outweighed her nervousness considerably.

“ _Why not_?”  She countered and attempted yet again to kiss the reluctant man and this time he did not pull away.  Instead he grabbed her hair to prevent the kiss from connecting.  He followed it up with a gently pull to the left that exposed her neck to him again and he bit the nearly healed scar again, the exact same way he had done in the tunnel.  She read the action quite clearly.  He was warning her to not try it again but he did not release her hair to prevent her from trying again.

His knees moved apart, spreading her thighs slowly and for the first time she felt his body press against her eagerly.  This gentle push was followed with a kiss on her neck and he groaned lowly into her skin.  Shame immediately overwhelmed her as she saw him reach his other hand down to free himself from his briefs and her panicked voice shocked him, “ _ **NO**.  Not like this._ ”

 

* * *

 

> _And if there was a plan made_   
>  _Then we forgot about it_   
>  _And if there was time_   
>  _I could figure it out now_   
>  _But life is short_   
>  _And I don’t care for most of it_   
>  _I don’t care for most of it_   
>  _Because you’re all that, all that I want_

 

Quinlan finally met her eyes.  The fear that they expressed caused him to release her and pull away suddenly, “Do … you wish me to _stop_?”

Now it was her turn to refuse his gaze and she pulled up and away from him completely, coming to a sitting position on the bed while pulling the sheet over her bare legs and clutching it fiercely to her chest.  

“I will _not_ hurt you, I _promise_.” He attempted to reassure her but some part of him knew that he already had.  He retreated and sat for a moment on the edge of the bed in silence as she remained unmoving.  He stood in frustration, not knowing what he should do next.

His body ached intensely for her and in his desperation to appease it, he attempted to negotiate with her to continue.  He could no longer resist the twitches that sprang forth as he spoke, “If it is about the kiss … I can … * _twitch_ * … I _will_ accommodate.”  He paused sadly before continuing, “In the past, _others_ have found that act … _with **me**_ … to be undesirable … because of … who … of … * _twitch_ * … _**what** I am_.”

While the statement was true, it wasn’t the entire truth.  He had actually been terrified to give in to her lips.  This was an act that he felt was overly … _intimate_.  She could not understand _how much_ he desperately did wish to surrender.  Pulling away had been torturous.   _This_ was another _hunger_ altogether though, one that he told himself he would always starve.  A hungry that was unquenchable, powerful and _fleeting_.  She was just mortal, after all.

But she remained silent as she stared at a spot on the bed near the middle of the foot and he tried one more time to negotiate, “I assure you, you _will_ enjoy it.  I am quite accomp–”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t think this is what I wanted after all.”  Her eyes were filled with tears and Quinlan felt an overwhelming sense of shame and rejection all at once and he walked back to his folded clothes on the dresser and pulled his pants on, zipping and buttoning them before turning to back to her.  His disappointment was impossible to mask.

He had been turned away before due to what he was but he had not expected such a rejection from her to affect him as it did, and he lashed out now, grabbing the rest of his folded clothes in his arms, preparing himself to leave.

He sneered in his defense, “Perhaps next time you make an **_offer_** , you should disclose its underlying _stipulations_.”

“I didn’t realize what _it_ meant.  I’m sorry, _Mr. Quinlan_.”  This was the first time she had called him anything other than Quintus.  Even though he had asked her repeatedly to call him Quinlan, now that she had, it caused him great remorse.

“What _what_ meant?” He questioned.  He did not like this feeling.  He should not have acted on his desires, he should have known better.

“That no ‘ _emotional attachment_ ’ would entail being treated like … _that_ ” she trailed off, ashamed to finish her own sentence.

“Being treated like _what_ exactly?” His voice was louder than it should have been and he heard one of the two humans stir in the bed next door.  He was desperate to know how he had slighted her.

Her response was barely a whisper, “ _Like a whore_.”

He blinked at this, “That … No.   _That_ was absolutely **_not_** my intention.”  He thought about her words and they struck a familiar nerve as there had been very, very few woman who he’d been with that weren’t, in fact, whores.  He replayed the actions in his mind and closed his eyes tightly as the revelation struck him that perhaps he had.

“I offered _pleasure_ … not _intimacy_.  If that was _unclear_ –”

“It’s clear.”  She still wouldn’t look up to his face and he turned to finally take his leave when he heard her voice again, low and defeated, “I’m sorry.  I made a false offer to you.  I thought I could be detached.”

“Do not apologize … not to _me_.  You deserve better than how I have treated you and not just this evening … from the beginning.   _You_ deserve so much more than I am capable of affording you.”  He wasn’t expecting her to respond to his words and he just wanted to retreat fully now.  Quinlan was not accustomed to this level of exposure.

“Is it _me_?  Am I really …”

He stopped at the door and waited for her to finish whatever statement she was attempting to make through her cracking voice.

“Are you really _what_?”  He asked gently when she did not continue on her own.

“Is it _that_ hard … I mean … would it be that hard … to want _intimacy_ with me?”

“Please … It is not a matter of _want_ …” he sighed heavily and turned back to face her.  He found vulnerability in his unclothed state, but her sadness numbed him to his own needs, “This generation thinks things are always about themselves …”  His words weren’t angry or even frustrated, they were simply a statement.

And Quinlan would [**_forever anguish_**](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/151819315153/chapter-3-regret#anguish) over what came out of his mouth next …

“I have loved one and only one in all of my life, and ** _I plan to ONLY love her._**  My time here draws to a close, I can _feel it_ , and whatever afterlife awaits me, whether it be the [fields](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FElysium&t=YzAxMGVlNWQ1NTk3YmMwMzNhZWI3OTEwYzVhNTY4NzY1N2M3MjlkMyxIemVNVzlTNA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1) or [Tartarus](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FTartarus&t=MGIyOWM0Yzk5OWRjNzAyNDY3N2VhMjYxY2ZhYzI5ZDNhZjBjMGIwNyxIemVNVzlTNA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1), whether it be Heaven or even Hell, I go there with her on my mind and in my heart, _always_.   _She_ awaits me in eternity.  It would be … _unfair_ to you for me to pretend otherwise.  Do you not deserve to find the same?”

The moment of silence that followed next was painful.  He found himself unable to move as he stared down at the broken women.  _Finally_ , she nodded to him, “I understand.  She must have been special.  What was she like?” Dawn offered a heartbroken smile towards him now as she finally looked up to his face again and he could see her eyes.  Even filled with tears, he was relieved that she had shared them with him again and he did not wish to leave yet after all.  It took all of his willpower to fight the urge to go to her and wipe the tear away as it trailed down her face.

“She was …”  Quinlan paused briefly, staring back into those dragonfly eyes and he found himself completely unable to describe his wife to her.  He had used many words over the years when talking about her fondly, albeit rarely.  To others, she had been _courageous, beautiful, brave, kind, challenging, trusting, intelligent_. He had even called her _defiant_ once.  But every aspect of what Tasa had been to him was a pale comparison to whom he looked upon now.  It would have been like telling the _sun_ that a volcano is powerful or telling the _ocean_ that a river is mighty.

“ _She was …_ “

He blinked at this revelation and the word escaped without permission, “ _simple_.”

And in this one moment, he realized that whatever had been **_his plan_** before … whatever he had tried to suffocate and cage from the moment he met her … whatever amount of control he tried to exercise of the situation.  He had _already_ failed entirely.

Guilt rushed over his mind and he fled back downstairs in silence.

_How could he have let this happen?_

_Oh gods …  
_

_What would Tasa think of him?_

* * *

He had gotten used to the old man’s body fully now.  It was finally starting to lose the unneeded peripherals and he was pleased to be rid of them.  Their flaccidity was bothersome to him.  He stared out from the high window of his new tower and gazed over his dusty creation.  The day was theirs now and this pleased him more than _anything_.

Thomas entered and approached, standing perfectly still behind him until he turned.  He was such a good, little servant.  His favorite so far indeed.  He smiled and turned to greet this most trusted follower.

“Young Goodweather is learning quickly, my Master.”

Pleased by this news, he smiled, “ _Good_.  Has there been any new sightings of the Born from the humans?”

He knew there had been none from the minions, he had the minds scouring for the troublemakers continuously.  They were clever and he had decided to employ human spies to try and draw his prey out of hiding.  

“There has not.  Not since the _incident_ at the factory, I’m afraid.  There has been no sightings of the _woman_ either.”

He turned to stare back out the high window as the wind pulled the radioactive dust through the buildings, “No, I am _certain_ the Born finished her.”

“My Master … she had survived months under our radar before–”

“I tasted her end through him.” The twitch that followed the statement was severe, “He was quite savage about it.  Quite _unlike_ him … ”  His disappointment was obvious.  All of his plans had collapsed with her death.  _Yet, even now, there had been no movement against him._

“Nonetheless … he continues to indulge his human half more and more … each day.”  The old man’s body smiled wickedly at this fact.

“How does that help us, my Master?”

“I used this _vulnerability_ to nearly defeat him in the past, but I underestimated him then.  I will not do so again.  And _this_ is stronger than before.  Has my new shipment arrived?”

Thomas smiled, “Yes.  It is being transported from the dock now.”

“Good.” The thought of finally being rid of his bastard brought him immense joy, “Bring me my snack now.”

Thomas bowed his head and turned to wave at the man at the door, who opened it and let the strigoi who stood on the other side in.  He pulled a leashed human behind him.

The sight of the woman pleased him quite a bit and Thomas stated, “This … demographic is getting harder to find, my Master.  The sweep teams are having to venture farther and farther for it.  Eventually I fear you may need to accept other options.”

“Perhaps … but not yet.  I am not quite satisfied _yet_.”  He waved for all the strigoi, including his most loyal servant to exit.  The girl stood roughly 5’4” and she was much younger than he wanted.  She was no more than 18.  He approached her quivering body and pulled at her curled blonde hair that was obviously dyed to that color, tilting her crying eyes up to see him.

“Hmmm … _pity_.”  They were a rich brown and he was disappointed immediately, but this did not stop him from drinking until her heart stopped nevertheless, the entire time remembering the actual taste through his son’s mouth.  The intensity was _so strong_ when it happened, his bastard’s emotions and desire were _so powerful_ that he had shared _every single moment of it_ through the Born.

This girl’s taste though was _wrong_ … They were always _wrong_ , but he used it to fuel his imagination over and over again.  Ah, what it must have been like to lose himself inside of **_his_** prize.   _Selfish boy._   She was not his for the taking and if _anyone_ was going to drink her at all, it should have been _him_.

He dropped her to the ground with a loud thump and the shell was dragged away, leaving him to his view again.

“Do not worry, _Invictus_ … You took _something_ from me … Now I will take _something_ from you … _yet again_.”

 


	66. 10.5 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are JUST here for the story, you are welcome to skip this part. This is a semi-apology for last chapter, even though I’m not really sorry.
> 
>  

> _I wanna hold the hand inside you_  
>  I wanna take the breath that’s true  
>  I look to you and I see nothing  
>  I look to you to see the truth  
> 
> 
> _You live your life, you go in shadow_  
>  You’ll come upon and you’ll go black  
>  Some kind of night into your darkness  
>  Close your eyes with what’s not there
> 
> _Fade into you  
>  Strange you never knew_

##  **Part 5**

Quintus sat on the couch in silence for a long time.  He attempted to lay back down yet again to rest his mind, but his body had not eased since he had retreated from her earlier.  It had gotten to the point of extreme frustration and he stared down at himself, begging for a reprieve.  It did not help that all he could think of at that moment was the smell of …

 _Enough, Quintus!_  He sharply commanded.  He had briefly considered relieving himself, but the thought of that was distasteful to him. He was not a child any longer.  Although, how he had acted upstairs, perhaps he was.

So many things disgusted him all at once and he stood to try and walk off the unending dissatisfaction.  His agony was not just physical though and he played his actions over and over again in his mind.

 _Fool_.

Why had he even taken her upstairs?  What had he really expected from it?  Would he have even been fine with just satisfying a physical need?  With her?  Did he think that was all he really wanted?  He was thankful that she had refused him now.  Nothing good would have come from having her that way.  

And … he had described Tasa as … _simple_?!?  What had he even been thinking?  He considered pulling the locket out of his pocket to remind him of her beauty, but he did not.  His guilt crippled him from touching it.  He did not _deserve_ to touch it now.  And yet it was not _her_ face that Quintus’ mind was fixated on.

 _Damnation_.

He sat back down calmly on the couch again and breathed deeply.  Meditation hadn’t helped ease his tension when he tried before but he attempted again.  His breathing was deep and he did not hold back his rattles.  It was relaxing not to and at the same time, the white noise that it generated aided in the mental trance that he wished to provoke.

Perhaps it was this noise that had prevented him from hearing her steps down the stairs and he opened his eyes, as she stood before him.  His embarrassment swamped him and he eyed the pillow that was to his right, wondering how quickly he might be able to pull it over his lap.  Not quick enough …

“Quintus.” She stated and approached him.  She had not put her sweat pants back on since he had unnecessarily removed them an hour before.  He had, however, put back on his own undershirt at least, but left the vest on the table.

“ _I am so very sorr–_ ” he attempted to apologize profusely to her now, but she leaned forward and placed her right index finger across his lips and he complied with complete silence.  His eyes grew wide and he sat paralyzed as she proceeded to straddle him on the couch, sitting down fully on his quadriceps, but not on his lap.  She was back farther on his legs, closer to his knees.

For the first time in over a thousand years, Quinlan had no idea what to do next and he sat completely still, in fear of driving her away from him.  He was sure he looked like a deer in the headlights right now.

“ _I don’t–_ ” he started again and she put her finger up to his lips again and he complied once again with complete silence.  His hands were palms down on the couch on either side of her legs and she seized them in unison, bringing them to her bare knees which were only slightly exposed under the extra large sleeping shirt.  She left them there and stared into his monster eyes … _waiting_.

He felt her cool skin against his preternatural fingertips and he breathed deeply, still not taking any action on his own.  In all the disgust of feeling childish before, he felt even more so now.  He feared any action that might drive her away and she tilted her head to the right when he failed to move.

_Oh gods … what should …_

“Should I go?” She questioned with large concerned eyes and she made a quick motion to sit up from his thighs and pull her right leg over them to allow her to stand again.  His hands on her knees moved down very slightly on her thighs as he gripped her firmly, begging sharply, “No, _please_.  Stay.”

He lessened his hold on her as she surrendered her retreat and sat back down near his knees.  She touched his face now, and traced his dark veins with her right finger from just above his brows, down his right cheek, down his neck and then across to his swirls.

Quintus had not felt such softness in so very many years and he twitched violently when her fingers moved across the delicate skin of his neck.  He fought every instinct to halt her inquisitive hand from its meandering path.  But he relinquished control and allowed her to explore its texture for as long as she wished, never moving his eyes from hers.

“I _offer_ you _intimacy_ , Quintus.”  He stared at her lips while she spoke, completely and utterly transfixed on them.  “ _This_ is my **_offer_** to you,” and she waited for his response, which came in the form of a tiny nod.

He swallowed hard as she leaned towards him again, but this time he did not refuse her again and he met it with eagerness that surprised even him.  She tasted just as she had in the tunnel and his hands came to life as they slid up her legs and towards her hips. He broke the kiss and his eyes were the widest they could physically be, filled with tremendous surprise, when he found that she was wearing nothing under the large shirt.

_“Oh … good … god.”_

He rarely used the singular of that word and he suddenly didn’t know if he had actually said that out loud or if it had just been a loud gasp within his mind.  She giggled madly, informing him that he had indeed _voiced_ it.  But he wiped the smirk from her face with his lips while he tightened his grip, hungrily grabbing her round flesh fully in his hands.  She squirmed over him in response.

Her tongue danced on his lips and he welcomed it, letting her inside to feel his.  He winced slightly as he felt it tentatively explore his, expecting the rejection that normally followed, but there was no hesitation nor disgust from her.  In response to her acceptance, he pulled her body towards him, bringing her bareness down on top of his lap fully as he pushed himself against her.  He studied her eyes for any clue on how he should proceed next.

What he found was a look of shock that he followed up with his own large smirk.  She had not yet _felt_ him and he reiterated the fact that she was clearly aware of already, “I have no such **_handicap_**.”

He stole her lips again and now no longer afraid to act at all, he held her against him as he pushed her down onto the couch on her back, groaning as he remained against her in every way …

Quintus’ eyes flung open and he sat up rapidly on the couch again.

_What?!?  No.  A **damn** dream?!  NO._

His frustration was more than simply annoyment now, and he grabbed the pillow and chucked it across the room with such force that it knocked the chair over as it connected with its back.  While he threw his fit, a word that he quite _loathed_ escaped from his mouth, “ ** _FUCK_**!”

The noise was loud and he waited a moment to hear if it had awoken anyone, but he heard no movement above.

He walked over and picked up the pillow and put the chair back to its previous position.  He now felt more dejected and alone than he did before.  His body was unrelenting and he could not even get peace in his sleep, it seemed.  He decided acquiesce to it now and simply relieve himself after all.  Refusing to do so was nothing short of torture.  He would have rather been whipped again than to experience _this_ longing _any_ further.  He hoped that _this_ would at least appease the hunger for a while.

In the end, he was actually grateful for his dream.  It had given him fuel for what he needed.   _That_ dream and her smell.

 

* * *

 

She’d awoken abruptly and laid completely still in bed for a few moments before she heard the noise sound from downstairs.  She could have swore she heard Mr. Quinlan curse as well, but she was still hazy from being recently asleep.  Besides, he didn’t curse.  Well, at least she’d never heard him.

She continued to lay perfectly still but she forced her eyes to remain open.  She didn’t need to have _another_ dream like _that_ about **_that_** man ever again.  She’d finally fallen asleep and then her mind tormented her with dreams of him agreeing to _actual intimacy_ with her … whatever the fuck that meant.

Eventually she did doze again though, and even against her conscious mind’s instructions, she wondered how he would have even reacted to her if she really had ventured downstairs in nothing more than her shirt and mounted the incorrigible man on his couch.

It had just been a dream, anyways … Besides, he would always be in love with _someone_ else, he had said.  Someone more … _simple_?  She would definitely not _float his boat_ then.  She sighed heavily and her last waking thoughts that night were particularly _hateful_.
    
    
         ‘Knowing our luck … I bet she’s got _dark hair_.’


	67. Fan Art - 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is spectacular!!!
> 
> ＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／
> 
> This is also good encouragement to keep writing!!! Thank you so much for reading and getting inspired by it.

  


  


[@admacosta](http://admacosta.tumblr.com) via [here](http://admacosta.tumblr.com/post/154136421004/decided-to-try-my-hand-at-some-fan-art-the):

Decided to try my hand at some fan art. The character, Dawn, belongs to [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA), and their FanFiction for the tv show/book The Strain. Not quite how I envision, or I’m sure how the writer envisioned her, but it was fun art practice that I badly needed. Thanks to [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA) for the wonderful ongoing story! And I’m enjoying all the other fan art popping up! It’s good encouragement to keep drawing!


	68. 10.6 - Hunger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna try your own Enochian, I recommend [this](http://www.sinleb.com/enochian/eng_index.php?callid=1).
> 
> Also, if this part confuses you, then YAY! The Enochian is always meant to be highly confusing.
> 
> ಠ◡ಠ

She did not wake before the others and meet him in the training room as she had normally done.  He was worried that she wouldn’t, but some hopeful part of him had wished desperately he would be wrong.  He told her the training would continue for as long as _she_ wished it and he knew that she no longer did.  Given his words to her, it was likely that she would wish _nothing_ from him … ever again.

Abraham was up first and he noticed that Quinlan was not exactly himself almost immediately.  The old man as quite observant when he chose to be.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Quinlan?”

“Of course … I did not sleep well.”

Abraham laughed, “ ** _That_** much vodka tends to do that to a person.”

Quinlan thought about correcting him in his misassumption, but realized it was a blessing in disguise and just nodded.  “I take it you are feeling _fine_ , Professor?”

The old man smiled widely, “Years of practice.”  He sat at the table with the dhampir and placed the papers that he had brought with him down so they could both peruse them fully.

“The remaining pages?” Quinlan asked.  He was desperate for a distraction from everything that happened the previous night.

“Yes.  Given that Mr. Fet said the room will be complete today, we should hurry.  We will be placing a call to your father soon and it would be best if we had all the requisite information before proceeding.”  Quinlan agreed with him as he nodded and they began the long arduous process of translating the rest.

They worked without break for the hour and a half it took the Hacker to eventually venture down.  He was sure she definitely looked worse than he did.  Her hair did at the very least.

“Oy … that was a _terrible_ idea.  Who’s idea was that again?”  She helped herself to the water in the kitchen.  

The Professor answered, “I believe it was actually _your_ idea, Miss Velders.”

“Ah right … well … that was a _SHIT_ idea.  Next time I have it … just _slap_ me right then and there.  It would feel better than how I feel right now.”  She gripped her forehead as she eagerly drank and filled her glass again.

The Doctor was next but he seemed … _perfectly_ normal.  Of course he did, he was a veteran after all.

Fet looked absolutely destroyed and he joined Dutch in the kitchen immediately taking the glass away from her as she filled it up, downing it before she could launch an adequate argument.

Gus was next and even he wasn’t looking too fantastic.  He just sat at the stool and stared blankly at the counter in silence until Fet probed, “Ya need some water, man?”

Gus barely managed a nod and he was rewarded with a glass, “Yo, I dunno how the Russians do it, man.”  He put his head in his hands and Fet slapped him on the back ridiculously hard.

“You seriously wanna get hurt, don’t you, _puto_?”

Fet grinned madly and chuckled.  However bad he was feeling at the moment, he wasn’t about to let it ruin this day, “Nah man, it’s da day.  We gotta put on da outside crossbar, then we go get us a muncher … and den we finish dis shit.  Today’s the day we save da world!”

Dutch looked defeated, exhausted, and excited all at the same time, “Right … ok then.  I’m gonna get a shower.  I guess someone else might be feeling worse though.”  Dutch giggled at the last part as she realized the other woman wasn’t downstairs at all yet.  Everyone was aware that she was usually up even before even the Professor.

Only Quinlan knew she’d been awake for hours.  And when she finally came down the stairs, she was carrying that black bag that he had packed for her on her very first day here.  That damn bag.  He wished he’d never provided it to her now.  He also suspected that she would be carrying it when she eventually came down, but he had quietly hoped he was wrong about that also.  She had hidden it under her bed after their first fight days ago when she’d asked Fet for the maps.

Quinlan watched her from the moment she was visible to when she got to the counter.

“What about this one?” Abraham pushed a paper towards him and he looked down at it, attempting to context switch back to the Lumen to help process it.

Dutch asked first, “Are you going somewhere, Love?”

Dawn smiled, but it was forced, “Today is the day, right?”  She turned to Vasily and he smiled merrily.

“You bet your sweet ass it is.”

The Doctor was now exceptionally forceful, “So the crossbar?  Let’s do it.”

“You ain’t gonna have any breakfast?” And Dutch asked, obviously referring to some stash of alcohol the Doctor was sure to have.

“No, not today.  Today is _the_ _day_.”  Everyone knew he was eager to find _the_ _Master_ … to find his son.

“Ok then, let’s get set up?” The Hacker asked the Poet and she agreed.  Everyone was more animated than he’s seen them in months.

“Mr. Quinlan?”

“Yes?”

“The page?”

“Yes … _sorry_.”

The next pages had indeed been about the [Nephilim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nephilim), as the Professor had assumed.  They had only been able translate the one before the interruption and they still had three remaining.  That page was dense but far from truly interesting.  He was still convinced it was all a jumble of clues.

The text started by describing the many names of the Nephilim as a whole.   _The Forbidden, The Bastards, The Plague, The Unclean, The Children of the Fornicators, The Abominations,_ and even _The Biters._  They were the offspring that are born of the sons of God and the daughters of men.  It was the same as was stated in Genesis and [The Book of Enoch](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Book_of_Enoch).  It detailed the [deluge](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genesis_flood_narrative) being a purge by God and Heaven to rid the world of this blight.   _This_ was already known.

Stating that it was commanded unto the _first of the five_ to cleanse the Earth of them.  This triggered something fundamental in the Professor and he began to describe The Book of Enoch to Quinlan.

“It is said, Mr. Quinlan, that Gabriel was instructed by _God_ to destroy the children of the fornication while _Michael_ was commanded to _bind_ the offending angels themselves, in a terrible punishment of isolation and then fire.”

“How does one _bind_ an angel, Professor?”

“It wasn’t clear in the old text.  They were imprisoned and eventually burned for their crime.”

The second page contained information that neither of them had ever heard before,  disclosing the different _types_ of said hybrids.  Quinlan focused on this page while the Professor started the next.

There were many different levels of angels listed, moving categorically down in order of some kind of rank, it seemed.  They counted seventeen levels in all.  

 _The First of the Born_ was defined as those _born from the five_. These hybrids had _two different subcategories_ associated with them.  The first listed had two names.  It was the only one that did.

The first name was **_PERIAZODA CASARMA CONISA HOXMARCH_** , or loosely … _Those Who Make Fear_.  Quinlan translated it more concisely simply as: _The Feared_.

The second name was **_PERIAZODA ADAGITA A BALATA CALZ TOL_** … _Those Against the Law Above All_ , or more concisely, _The Most Forbidden_.

The second of that category were described as from the **_PERIAZODA CASARMA CARBAF_** , or _Those Fallen_.   Quinlan tensed as he read their title and Abraham noticed immediately.

“What is it?”  The old man prodded.

“ ** _PERIAZODA CASARMA ARP ADAGITA GE._** ”

Abraham translated it in his head before speaking, “ _Those Who Conquer Can Not??_ ”

“Yes. It is, quite _literally_ … _The Unconquerable_.”

“Yes?”

“ _The Invictus_.  This is _the Born_ , Professor.  I am sure of it.”

He pulled the paper from Quinlan and stared at it, “ _Technically_ , these are all _Born_.”  The Professor was very pedantic suddenly, but continued, reading from the page, “ _Born from the fallen of the first_.”  The Professor eyed him dramatically before asking, “What does it say of them?”

“Nothing, this seems to just be a list.”

“Continue then.”  And the old man tapped the paper before handing it back and Quinlan nodded tired compliance.

The hybrids that caused the deluge were called out at level twelve, referred to as **_A IAID_** , or _The Tall_.  Abraham corrected this to _The Giants_.  They were those beings born from _**PERIAZODA CASARMA BERANUSAJI COREDAZODIZODA**  … Those Who Guard Man._

“There are obviously no **_giants_** we need to worry about.”  The dhampir offered in passing, but the old man met his eyes quickly as the words seemed to resonate.

“But … there was a _GIANT_ , Mr. Quinlan?”

Quinlan thought deeply for a moment and chuckled it off, “I am quite sure that _Sardu_ was not … “ he paused at even finishing the absurdity, “ _nephilim_.”

“Of course not … “ but Abraham pushed the subject further still, “What if he had been?”

Quinlan sighed impressively, “I grow _tired_ of your inability to recognize fiction when you read it, Professor.”

Abraham laughed out loud.  This was quite uncommon for him, “Then you will continue to grow more _tired_ , I’m afraid.”

The rest of the categorizations seemed mostly unimportant.  Among the other names were _The Hungry, The Pointed, The Callus, The Apathetic, The Unseen, The Loved, The Broken, The Bound_.

Quinlan found many of the words hard to translate and gave up in lieu of another page that was not simply a list of useless names.

Abraham turned as he had completed his page as well.

“Mine was also a list.”

“A list of what?”

“ ** _AMETAJISA_** … _Seals_.”

“ _Seals_?”

“Wards, I believe,” and he handed the page to Quinlan, who saw an array of strange symbols with Enochian next to them.  The Professor had scribbled the translations underneath.

“Wards for what exactly?”

“ _ **DE ALONUSAHI**_.”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right and gave the old man an exasperated look.

“Sorry … Seals of Power.  You asked how you _bind_ an angel, Mr. Quinlan.”  He tapped the page now in the dhampir’s hands, “I believe _this_ is how.”

“What exactly to do you do, Professor?” Quinlan smirked, “Do you draw this on them, around them, above them?  Here, please let me _paint_ something on you, _great divine being_.”

Abraham gave him a concerned look.  He’d never heard the Born attempting to be so … **_sarcastic_** before, “Is everything alright, Mr. Quinlan?”

“It is fine.  I just … I just do not like these … _wild goose chases._ ”

The old man shrugged and offered an olive branch to the obviously frustrated half-breed, “We only have one page left anyways.”

Quinlan began to hand the paper back when one of the wards caught his eye and he pulled it back, touching the symbol and traversing his memory for it.  It was _almost_ familiar, but it was not.  It was ridiculously intricate and Quinlan was surprised that the old man had gone to such lengths to copy it so precisely.  It was nearly square in its outline shape and filled with swirls that reminded him of his own neck.  He read the name and meaning of it carefully.

 ** _AMETAJISA ADAGITA PEREDAZODARE_** , he read it again … _The Seal to Diminish_.  He paused, trying to remember where it had been seen.  Trying to remember the shape?  It was quite detailed though.  Perhaps it had just been the outline of it?  Something within him was struggling to be heard when he felt the tremble begin.

It was a low rumble at first and the voice was strict and commanding.

##  _**“Leave it be.”** _

Quinlan tensed and Abraham noted immediately, “Mr. Quinlan? What is it?”

“Leave **_what_** be?”  Quinlan demanded as he stared at a spot on the wall across the table, directly past the old man.  Abraham turned to look and saw nothing and his eyes grew wide, remaining completely silent as he realized that Quinlan was no longer talking to _him_.

There was no response and Quinlan sneered as he pushed again  “ _If you wish me to leave something be, then I demand a reason._ ”  He asked the wall, but received no response.  Abraham waited until Quinlan relaxed and looked back down to the page before pressing him.

“Mr. Quinlan?  Did you hear it again??”

The dhampir locked eyes with him as he nodded in response, “ ** _Yet_** … _you_ did not, Professor?”  The presence of that same voice had not had the same effect on the old man as it had on the woman?  He was still quite conscious.

“What did it say?”

“ _He_ said … That there is something of importance here.”  Running his fingers over the paper again, Quinlan touched the seal one more time before hearing the mountainous man call out.

“Ok, everything is set … Let’s go find us a muncher, Q.”

 

* * *

 

The ladies and Gus were coming up from the basement after having moved the computers downstairs.  They’d set up the tables to the left of the entryway, on the outside, so that they would be out of view of their eventual prisoner.  Everything was good to.

The receivers were easy to set up and as soon as the minion was in place and the call was connected, they should be able to use the point to point system to start integrating over the collection grids.

When they had first set it all up weeks ago, SETI hadn’t provided the _millions_ of processors that they had hoped.  It was the end of the world after all, but it had provided over _fifty thousand_.  As the weeks rolled by, that number dwindled.  Now they had around _twenty thousand_ to play with.  That meant that, given the 6 collectors in the city, to get an _immediate_ geolocation, they would need five or so continuous minutes of connection.  If not, they would need to post process it.  If it was less than 30 seconds, it was likely that the integration wouldn’t provide an area less than two square miles.

They slowed their creep up the stairs as they heard the argument that was ensuing above.  Dutch shot Dawn a confused look and she shrugged.  They entered the room and the argument seemed to be between Ephraim and Quinlan.  Fet stood apprehensively in the middle.

Quinlan sighed heavily, “I’m not saying that we _aren’t–_ ”

Ephraim challenged, “Why are we waiting??  Why do you want to wait!?  It was supposed to be today!  Because you what?  You wanna read that fucking BOOK SOME MORE?!”

“Doctor Goodweather, _please_.” Setrakian tried from somewhere on the other side of Fet.  They couldn’t even seen him from their angle at the basement door in lieu of the big man.

“I am tired of fucking waiting for you guys.  MY SON IS OUT THERE AND YOU WANT TO KEEP READING THIS FUCKING BOOK!”  He made a grab the papers at the table and Abraham defensively snatched them out of his reach.

Quinlan was unamused by the entire ordeal, “Doctor.   **ENOUGH**.  All I said was we should wait to make the call until we have finished the last page’s translation.”

“I am done waiting … I’ll find one on my own.”  Ephraim stated infuriatingly and began a beeline for the door.

“Come on guys, we can’t let him go alone.”  Fet pointed towards the Doctor as he huffed out the door.

Setrakian faced Quinlan now and made a compromise, “You go with him and I will finish the translation before you get back.”

“But Professor–”

“Mr. Quinlan, there is no reason to put this off another day.  Every day we wait, more people die.  Every day we wait, _the_ _Master_ grows stronger, is that not right?”

Quinlan’s relaxed his stance and glanced back towards the people who had been waiting to enter the room over the argument, “Very well then.”  He grabbed his coat and his sword and started to follow the Ukrainian was already out the door in pursuit of the desperate father.

He turned back and offered to no one in particular, eyeing the black bag on the counter quickly, “ _We_ will be back shortly, I _promise_.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t as easy to find one as they originally assumed.  It seemed like _the Master_ had called all the stragglers back somewhere.  They had been on the road for over an hour, slowly heading towards the city again, and Quinlan felt ridiculous with his head stuck out of the van window like a canine.  And that became even less of an amusing analogy when Fet asked him if he wanted a **_treat_** at one point.  The look that he returned was sufficient enough of a response that the large man didn’t attempt another one of those _jokes_.

Occasionally they would stop and he would walk around and survey the area quietly before getting back into the van and continuing to the next area.  

This was taking too long.  Quinlan didn’t like being away from the house right now.  The presence of the black bag on the counter was what concerned him the most.

Quinlan didn’t like the feeling at all, each time he surveyed the area.  There was a quietness that caused him to be on edge.  Why was the Master clearing out everything?  No humans, no strigoi.

Ephraim offered up a risky plan now.  “I know where some are.”

The plan worried Fet as well, “I dunno guys, we should bring Gus along.  We didn’t even bring any of dos pills.”

Ephraim was less than rational.  It was a pity he hadn’t just drank today anyways, “We just need to keep our exposure to under an hour.”

Fet contorted his face, “That ain’t what you said last time.”

Ephraim shrugged and played off his lie, “It’ll be fine.  It will be fast.”

“There is no need to put anyone else in danger.  Tell me the location and I will go.”

Fet blinked at the thought of Quinlan leaving them there alone and taking _his_ van, “Yeah I don’t like that idea–”

“The keys, Mr. Fet.”

“What if–”

“There are none around, you will be fine. I do not wish to waste the hour driving you back.   _The keys, **Vasiliy**_.”  Quinlan put out his gloved hand and Fet stared at it.  He’d never called him by his first name before.

“I assure you … I am only making it _seem_ like you have a choice. **_The keys_**.”

Fet blinked again.  Quinlan wasn’t really in a kidding mood and the big man understood and complied immediately, relinquishing them to his scary comrade.

“If you cannot find a vehicle to return with, I will come back this way to retrieve you.  Stay hidden.”  He drove away, seeing them standing there still in awe in the rear view mirror.

When he got to the factory that the Doctor had claimed was “absolutely crawling with the fuckers”, he found nothing.  It had been cleaned out and shut down.  He thought he knew why as he walked across the floor and found a destroyed control console, riddled with bullets.

He shook his head at this finding as the Doctor could have mentioned it.  His irrationality when it came to his son was at an all time high today, it seemed.  He decided to head back for now.  He felt exposed in this place.  And as he stepped out into the cold pavement, the wind blew briskly in his face from the right at the moment he thought it was likely being watched and he picked up the slight scent of ammonia causing him to smirk.

 _Excellent_.


	69. 10.7 - Hunger

He’d let it follow him for three blocks in a direction away from where he had parked the vehicle.  This wasn’t ideal at all, as it would be quite difficult for him to lose a _Child of the Night_ , or as the Doctor was so fond of calling them, a _Feeler_.   _Difficult_ … but not impossible.  It had likely been sent to wait for their possible return.  How fortuitous that his father would plan ahead as such.   _Good_.

He considered briefly taking it back to use for _The Call_ , but he felt it more dangerous than necessary and many reasons stacked up in his mind when he had thought it through.  It would be far more difficult to control.  The chair was made to house a strigoi of adult size.  The enhanced sense of awareness might actually give the Master clues to their location.  No, he would have to continue to be patient.

He didn’t want to waste time either.  The _Master_ already _knew_ he was there after all.  It was even likely that an army, much like the one he’d seen in the sewer, approached even now.  But there were less distractions around this time and he was confident he would hear them sooner.

He could have just finished the little beast off.  Simply taken its head back to Miss Velders, as they had lost their previous one.  She could also survey the city itself for strigoi since they apparently had to venture that far to find one anyways.  They hadn’t used that option earlier because they thought they would be sticking to the suburb area which had no receivers in place.

This was the safest thing that he should have done and then started the search for a singleton minion anew.  The image of that black bag on the counter weighed on him and if he returned he didn’t want to have to leave again.  The drive was long.  He regretted letting the old man convince him to go so hastily.

He dropped down into the sewer next.  The smells were so intense below that it would help mask him from his hunter.  Its senses were heightened, even compared to other strigoi, but it was very young compared to him and he could still smell and hear much better than it.  As soon as it was sure it had lost him, he doubled back and made the hunter the prey.

It was possible that it might just return to the factory, but he had led it very far on purpose.  He could tell it hadn’t fed in quite some time and even the feelers were predictable.  All strigoi were predictable to _him_.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was glad that when he returned to the location the men were already gone.  He could get home faster.  Mr. Fet always drove too cautiously.  He plowed the van furiously down the streets at a dangerous speed, occasionally looking back to his victim tied up in the back.

When he arrived back at the house, there was an ugly, greenish colored Pinto in front of the garage.  Interesting choice, but he was sure it had been easier to confiscate than any of the newer cars would have been.

A couple of blocks back a particularly sinister idea came to him, and he had pulled off to consider it briefly.  It was still early enough in the morning that they would want to proceed with making the call today, but if he delayed in returning until the mid afternoon, then they would need to wait until the morning, wouldn’t they?

Quinlan sat and pondered why it would even matter ultimately.  If they could end this … if _he_ could end this _today_ , was there really a reason for delaying it further at all?  This is what he’d wanted for so very long, right?

He pulled the locket out of his pocket finally.  He’d been unable to do so last night, but now he stared at the visage on it, rubbing his thumb across it slowly.

_No.  Enough is enough, Quintus.  Today is the day._

* * *

Fet opened the door and Quinlan carried the thing in over his shoulder.  The wiggling blood sucker had several wire ties binding its wrists together as well as its ankles.  It looked like it used to be a man of medium height and build.  Its eyes and mouth were bound in … **_Duct Tape_**?

Fet looked at him perplexed at first, “What happen to da bag I gave you?”

Quinlan waved the fabric bag that he held in his right hand towards Fet and shrugged, “I had another use for it.  I had to get creative.”  He looked around immediately for the Poet’s expression.  He had actually chuckled quite madly and thought how much it would please her while he was taping up the beast in the van … but she was the only one not present.  _Odd_. He listened carefully.  She was not present in the house at all, and his heart lurched as he spun and spied the black bag still sitting on the counter.

“ _Where did you even find Duct Tape?_  Ya know what … forget it, I don’t even wanna know.  Want me to take ‘em downstairs?”  Fet put out his arms in an offer for Quinlan to relinquish the writhing thing but he ignored the man’s offer of help and quickly headed towards the basement.  He chucked the fabric bag to Dutch, who gave a small scream of surprise as it flew towards her and she caught it.

“What’s this?”  She looked excited.

“A gift.”  Quinlan didn’t smile nor even gaze her way, he just headed down the stairs.  Halfway to his destination, he heard her scream as she had apparently opened the bag and saw the decapitated feeler head within.

“ _Oh fuck_ … Is _this_ what I think it is?!”  She called out after him, but received no response as he continued down the rest of the stairs and into the tiny concrete cell.

Fet and Gus were following closely behind, and as he tossed the struggling thing apathetically onto the ground, he asked them, “Do you need anything else from me?”  Fet shook his head and Quinlan returned back upstairs.

“We are missing someone?” Quinlan asked sharply.

“We aren’t.”  Ephraim answered.  He was apparently in a much better mood now.

“We are.”

“She’s upstairs, Mr. Quinlan.” Abraham offered.

“She is **_not_** upstairs.”

Apparently this was news to everyone and Dutch looked up from her “ _gift_ ”, even more confused than usual, “Yeah, she is.  Isn’t she?”

Quinlan moved toward the door but stopped for a moment as he heard the motor before the others.  He removed the crossbar and swung the door open, seeing the woman behind the wheel of one of those strange hybrid vehicles.  He stood in the doorway watching as she stopped it on the street.  As she exited, she pulled something large and flat with her, putting it under her left arm as she used the remote to lock the car and she walked towards the door.  The breadth of her smile showed that she seemed quite pleased with herself, but it faded away as she saw Quinlan in the door.

“What is _that_ for?”  He had not meant to express annoyance, but he was sure that is exactly how it sounded.  She was out … **_driving around_** when _he_ … they … had been gone?!

“It’s my new car.”  She stated without emotion as she walked around him in the doorway, being careful not to touch him.

“You were gone?!”  Dutch was still confused.  That seemed to be her standard state of existence today.  “When did you leave?!  You are a goddamn **_ninja_**.”

“Since the boys got back … they said the neighborhood was clear.”

Dutch peered out the door as Quinlan was still standing stood in it, “A _Prius_?  It’s the end of the _world_ and you bring back a _Prius_?  Wouldn’t something more … I dunno … four wheel drive-y be better?”

Dawn smiled at her wildly, “Not for long distances.  I considered taking their RV, but I figured if I have to get across the US, then something with better gas mileage is best, right?  I also siphoned ten gallons out of a couple of cars and I found _this_!”  Her smile returned.

She plopped the giant book down on the counter with eagerness.  Quinlan could read the title from where he stood and he cringed slightly as he recognized the familiar words across it: Road Atlas.

“OY!  You found one!   _Where_?!?”

“It was in the car already, actually.  Old people _love_ their maps.”  She beamed and her immense happiness over her find caused Quinlan to shift in his stance slightly.

“Mr. Quinlan, if you would??”  Abraham was perturbed, as usually, and waved a hand at the door, asking if he would close it.  The breeze that it was allowing in was causing havoc on his table of papers and it was getting stronger by the second.

He shut it quickly and the old man waved him over to the table.  “I am almost done, Mr. Quinlan.  I had a question to ask you–”

“Ok.  Da muncher is all ready to go!  What’s next?”  Fet asked suddenly, popping his head in from the back hallway.

 

* * *

 

“The women are performing some last minute ‘ _system checks_ ’ of some kind.  Dr. Goodweather and Mr. Elizalde have loaded the van with the necessary equipment and weapons.  And you have the box.  The preparations are nearly complete.”  Quinlan pointed to the small silver box that he had brought down from his room earlier.  Since the blast had been so sudden, they had been forced to leave the man-sized box near the docks and when Quinlan had gone back later to retrieve it, it was already gone.  Abraham was sure the _Master_ had seen to its destruction already.

He and Fet had spent the first couple of weeks trying to recreate it, but it was simply impossible to find that much silver or lead just laying around.  He had, however, been able to create a box that should be of adequate size to house the _red worm_ at the _very_ least.  It was as good a plan as any that they’d had so far.  This time, he would need to act faster after Quinlan dispatched the Master again and catch the worm before it could escape.

“You had a question for me, Professor?”  They were now alone in the living room.

“Yes, you had mentioned a _stricture_ in the law at one point in time?”

“The _Law_?  Of the Ancients?”

“Yes.  Can you elaborate on that?”

“Not really, I’m afraid.  Most of their _Law_ was hearsay for me.”

“Yes, but you mentioned, specifically, a prophecy concerning _the Born_?”

“I am not sure it was a _prophecy_ , per se, but it stated that the creation of Born are forbidden, because the resulting creature would bear their mark, but not carry their plague and that this creature would be their undoing.”

“And yet the Ancients allowed you to continue to exist?”

Quinlan tilted his head slightly, “Not at first, no.  Their initial intention was not to allow me to exist.  I convinced them otherwise.  I can be … persuasive.”

Abraham nodded in agreement to that final statement and shoved the final translation at the dhampir, “This _is_ a prophecy, per se.  But it is not directed at just the Ancients.”

_**A TOLTEREGI ERM TOTZA AMETAJISA CARIPE AG DE TOTZA SONUF ADAGITA BOLAPE TOTZA CARBAF** _

_The creature with their seal but none of their rules will cause their fall._

Abraham offered a verbal interpretation as he read the words, “The creature that bears their mark but not their plague and that _this_ _creature_ would be their undoing.”

There was more written on the page, but the dhampir sighed and handed it back to the Professor, “Yes, it is similar to the _stricture_ , but entirely unhelpful.”  He was done with riddles and clues and the old man’s foolishness.  He was simply tired now and Abraham could read that on his face clearly.  He stared across the room without offering any other words on the subject.

Abraham followed his eye line, tracing it back to the bag on the counter.  Sighing, the old man breached the subject he had been tentatively tippy toeing around for weeks now, “Will you hide _it_ as well then?”

Quinlan turned to him, blinking in faked innocence, “What?  Hide _what_ exactly?”

“Her bag.”

“Professor, I don’t know what you are ref–”

“Just as you did with the maps?”

Quinlan’s confused look melted into a scowl, “I’m not sure what you are ref–”

“Mr. Fet already told me, Mr. Quinlan.  I can also be … _persuasive_.”

Quinlan stared at the old man carefully and Abraham prepared himself for the Born to manipulate the conversation again, “Of course he did … He is an untrustworthy man.”

Abraham was quick in his retort, “ _He_ is?  Or **_YOU_** are?”

“Profes–” Quinlan attempted to control again, and Abraham continued to do the only thing that allowed him to remain in domination of the conversation.  He interrupted him.

“You cannot **_force_** her to stay.”

“I am not forc–”

“Yet you hide the atlas that Mr. Fet found?”

“I did not hi–”

“You didn’t give it to her.”

“I did not hi–”

“Then–”

Quinlan had had enough of this tactic, “ _I did not **hide** it, Professor.  I **burned** it._ ”  Quinlan looked remarkably human as he closed his eyes and his right hand pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb.

“Abraham,” Quinlan had rarely ever called the old man by his first name, “She has _talents_ we may still require.”

Setrakian stood and began to gather his paperwork up into a pile before offering up a final statement, “Perhaps, but even so.  We will not force her to stay.”

Quinlan sat silent for a moment and conceded to the old man, “I did not intend to _force_ , I just intended to _delay_.  There was no _malice_ behind my action.”

“Mr. Quinlan … I _never_ implied there was _malice_ behind your action at all.”  Abraham locked eyes with the half-breed only briefly before Quinlan sighed heavily in response.

“ _This_ has been nothing but an inconvenience for me, I assure you.   _Please_ , let us go now.  Let us finish this, once and for all.”

Abraham nodded as he stood and followed the dhampir into the basement.  It was best to let this go … _for now_.

 

* * *

 

When they came down the stairs, everyone was huddled around the door, save for the Poet, who stood on the very bottom step, far from the room.  Abraham walked past Quinlan as he stopped to address the woman.

“You will stay out of view at all times, understood?”

She meekly nodded, but didn’t verbalize a compliance and he grabbed her arm firmly, “He has not associated you with _us_ yet, and it will be in your best interest to stay anonymous, otherwise he _will_ hunt you.”  She simply nodded again, not looking directly up at him and she tugged for him to let go of her arm.

He wasn’t sure if it was just animosity towards him or not, but something was off about her demeanor.  She trembled under his grip.  Was she _scared_?  He’d _never_ seen her scared before, not even when he almost killed her.

But he did not like the non-verbalized compliance coupled with her usually defiant nature and he gripped harder, “I do **_not_** want him to see you.  Do you understand?”

“I understand, Ok?”  She whispered and jerked her arm back from him with enough force that he released her.  She sat down on the stairs without looking at him even once.  This wasn’t just anger.  Something was … off.

He looked back at the crowd who were still huddled around the door and Quinlan knew everything was good to go when the mountain of a man gave him a silent thumbs up.  Dutch entered the room first and quietly took a seat at the table that was set up out of view, behind the chair.  It had nothing but a laptop on it.

Quinlan had removed his coat upstairs, but carried his sword with him now and everyone moved out of the way as he entered the room to look at his prisoner.

The minion was strapped to what looked very much like an execution chair.  It had metal restraints holding its feet, hands and head in place.  Fet had replaced the tape with a mask that would prevent it from using its stinger, but allow it to see and speak to them freely.  Gus had the idea to use a modified hockey mask.  Mentioning the idea brought the Boxer great sadness.

Quinlan waited for the Hacker to give her thumbs up next and he reached out and pulled the bandana free of the beast’s eyes.  He expected the call to connect immediately.  His father had rarely resisted the urge to banter threats back and forth.  But as he stood staring at the strigoi … nothing happened.  He attempted to talk at it, provoke it, push it to see him, to trigger his father’s wrath … but _nothing_ occurred.

He threatened to cut the creature with his blade.  Nothing.  He actually cut the creature with his blade.  Nothing.  He attempted German, Latin and other language with which no one but Abraham would have been familiar.

 _Nothing_.

He tried everything that might antagonize or even draw him out.

_Nothing._

“ _Coward_.”  He huffed and exited the room after nearly an hour of interrogation.  Goodweather was next.  He fared no better and left after a mere ten minutes.

Abraham tried and even left at one point to obtain the Lumen and waved it in front of the beast’s face.   _Nothing_.  They even brought a chair in for the old man to sit and speak for an extended period of time to it.

Gus even attempted to instigate something.  Anything.  But … _nothing_ happened.  He must have been onto their plan.

It was Quinlan’s turn again and he gazed at the woman who sat on the stairs.  She hadn’t moved since they started, and that was hours ago now.  She stared at the ground, hunched over, with her arms hugging her knees.  He could hear her heart racing.

He entered the room yet again.

 

* * *

 

She thought of nothing for the first hour.  She purposefully pushed all thoughts out of her mind.  The second hour, she argued with herself … nonstop.  She listened to their antagonization and she learned more about them than she had in the entire four weeks she’d been with them so far.

Gus had a mother, a brother, and a friend that their Master had taken.  Setrakian had a wife, Miriam.  She knew that Ephraim has a son that the Master still has, but she also learned that he had lost his wife and someone named Nora.  Everyone tensed when they had mentioned her, Dawn could tell that she had been special.

It was hard to learn much about Quinlan, he spoke many language, the least of which was English.  What he had said, he had mentioned the _Ancients_ and lobbed many insults.  Nothing seemed to be working.  In all honesty, what she knew of their Master and his deep hatred for his _Invictus_ , if anyone could get him to talk, it should be Quinlan.
    
    
        “You know that’s not true.”
    
        “He hates him most of all.  We’ve seen it in his eyes.”
    
        “We _know_ that’s not true.”
    
        “That he hates him most of all?”
    
        “That Quinlan is the only one that can get him to talk.”
    
        “What are you saying?”
    
        “That it’s not always about … _hate_.”
    
        “We said we would help them get this far …”
    
        “Yes.”
    
        “And we are so very close to–”
    
        “To what?  To freedom?  In a world that is dying?  Freedom to run away?”
    
        “That’s not fair.  You put them in danger–”
    
        “That’s an excuse … a cowardly excuse.  We are afraid.”
    
        “There are only two things that we fear, and _it_ is not one of them.  Besides, if they knew it was all _our_ fault.”
    
        “ _If they knew_ … why does it matter anymore?”
    
        “It mattered _before_.”
    
        “Whatever mattered before doesn’t matter _anymore_.  I don’t want to just sit here, when they are so ready to fight and to die for this.”
    
        “You think we are a coward?”
    
        “If we just sit here and do nothing, when we know we can try, then yes … we are.”
    
        “And what will _they_ think of us?  When they realize that we’ve been hiding this?”
    
        “Hiding _what_?  We don’t even know what we have been hiding.  We don’t even know why.  I want to know _why_.  I need to know _why_.”

She was already standing and walking before she finished the last thought.
    
    
        “Ok.  Let’s go ask him then.”
    
        “ _Let’s_."

Before she was halfway to the room, that _dark voice_ was soft and pleading.

 _ **“Stay Hidden.”**_  But for the first time since she had started to hear it, she completely ignored its advice.

She passed Gus, Fet, Ephraim and Setrakian who stood with their backs to the concrete wall, listening, and she stopped short of the door.  They looked at her, confused, and she uttered one sentence before stepping past the frame and into the room.

“I am sorry for everything that I have kept from you.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was reminding the strigoi in Latin of when he had destroyed the _Master_ as Tacitus when he heard Dawn’s soft voice just beyond the door and he stopped mid sentence.  What was she sorry for, he wondered and as he heard her step into the doorway, he welled up with sudden anger.  He _told her_ to stay _out of view._

But his anger retreated as he saw the red circles, as she had called, encompass the strigoi’s eyes instantly.

He slightly smiled.   _Finally_.  But, like his anger, his smile faded as he realized the monster was not staring at him, but _past_ him.  He began his turn to face the direction of its greedy grin when the _Master_ joyfully and breathily spoke through the being.

“Ahhhh … **_My Poet._** ”


	70. Interlude 7 - Regis Air 753

#  Regis Air 753 

Her flight to Berlin was actually five minutes early and she had more than two hours of a layover until her connecting flight to JFK would even board.  She had packed in such a rush that she didn’t get lunch and now was her chance.

She ambled down the terminal looking for a restaurant that was somewhat appetizing, backpack strapped to her tightly as she pulled her carry-on luggage nimbly behind her.  She missed Sean more than ever when she was in airports.  Having to fend for yourself in these meccas of social disobedience was terrifying.

She found her connecting gate and it was still _relatively_ empty.  They usually were this far from take off time.  She claimed the perfect seat, on the end of a row and sat down, staring around.  She pulled out her phone and started to browse her social media feeds.  It was the only way she had stayed in touch with home while she’d been away, and she diligently looked through everything that she subscribed to: Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr and SnapChat.  

She saved Facebook for last.  She hadn’t checked it in months and she mentally cringed as she opened the app.  Ellie had told her to unfriend him entirely, but she hadn’t and he hadn’t bothered doing so either.  She touched the ‘F’ icon and watched the app open slowly, powered by the airport WiFi.  She scrolled through the feed until she saw the post she was dreading and closed it quickly, deciding it was probably time to just delete her Facebook account entirely.  She was tired of all of the baby pics anyways, and she really didn’t want to see the next post of her husband’s … erm … ex-husband’s … new born child.

She looked at the time and noted to herself that she had one hour and fifty minutes left before boarding and then put her phone away, looking around nervously.  She didn’t want to give up her awesome seat but she also wanted to explore a bit and eat something.  Her stomach was demanding it.  This was one of those obnoxious instances where she would have wanted a travel companion, but fuck it, now she was also in need of a drink  She relinquished her premium seat and started to explore the airport for options.

There weren’t many at all.  Several little carts, some fast food looking places and then a couple of ridiculously busy restaurants.  She pulled out her phone and surveyed that she had about an hour and a half now.  She fumbled with her German trying to ask the hostess what the wait was like but luckily she actually understood English.

“It twill be about twenty minutes for a seat.”  She looked at her phone again and began to walk away when an older man called out to her from just beyond the entrance.

“Hey!  You are welcome to join me!  Are you American?”  His accent was American and she turned to look him over quickly.  He was easily in his mid 50s, with a mixture of dusty blonde and gray hair, sitting alone at a four person table.  Although, she wasn’t entirely sure, he seemed younger perhaps.  Maybe the gray in his hair was throwing off his age though.  She looked down the terminal, wondering if there might be something less busy, but she turned back to see the man still smiling nicely at her, “I swear I don’t _bite_.”

She looked at him over closely now, noting his overly square jaw and his 5 o’clock shadow, which also contained some gray in it as well.  His hair was cut short and slicked back from his forehead.  When he smiled, his eyes pinched close together and created deep set wrinkled lines at their edges.  He sported jeans and a black cotton shirt.  He looked ridiculously American.

 _Sure … why not, she was fucking hungry, after all._  She hummed to herself and pointed to him as the hostess allowed her entry to sit at his table.  She picked a seat that was opposite from him but not directly in front of him.

“Thanks.  I don’t have much time.”  She waved her phone at him to imply the time and he nodded.

“Not a problem.  I don’t mind helping out a _fellow_ … patriot.”  His smile was still nice and accompanied by two deep set dimples.  It wasn’t until she had gotten closer that she noticed the scar which ran down the left side of his face, from his hairline all the way to his jaw.  She realized she was staring at it far too long when he shoved his hand out to her and introduced himself, “I’m Mike.”

She met his hand with her own and his grip was firm.  She tried to meet his firmness with her own and his smile widened at her attempt, “Nice to meet you, Mike.”

“The _goddess_ , the _princess_ , or the _superhero_?”  He asked immediately tilting his head to the right playfully.

“Definitely the _goddess_.”  He laughed at her response as he released her hand and took the last drink of his beer as the waitress ventured over.

He pointed to the glass and put two fingers up towards the servant to order two more of the same.  She tried to put up a minor protest but the waitress ignored her and he offered, “Sorry about that … I hope you like Belgian beers.  They’re my favorite.”

“Actually, yeah I do.  That’s probably what I would have ordered anyways.”

He laughed and smiled, “Good!  You looked like a girl that could appreciate a good Belgian.”

She studied the man for a moment.  There was something about …

“And would you like something eat?”  The waitress turned to her for her food order already.

“Ah … sorry, lemme look first.  Thanks.”  She perused the menu slowly, looking over the options and giggled over the ‘ _weinerschnitzel_ ’ … it was something quite different in the States.

“So, what brought you to Germany?”  He chit-chatted.  Great … she was worried that he might want to talk and she cringed at the obligatory small-talk having taken his offered seat.   _Shit_.

“Oh, it’s just a connecting flight for me.”  If she could just keep her answers short he might not want to–

“Oh … where are you connecting from?”   _Shit.  We’ve got a talker here._

“Rome.”

“ _Niiice_.  I like Rome.  I haven’t been in a _very_ long time though.  It’s probably changed a lot since then.”  His smile widened, “So what was in Rome?”

The waitress saved her from answering as she delivered their previously ordered beers and then asked, “Would you like any food?”

Ah crap.  He had distracted her entirely from looking over the menu and now she panicked and ordered the only thing that she could remember, “The weinerschnitzel?”  She didn’t mean it to be a question, but it was.

“Yes, we have that.”

“No, I mean, that’s what I want.”  The waitress nodded and walked off while the man laughed at the interaction.

“Sorry.  Hehe.  I’m not very–”

“Hey, no apologies needed here.  Don’t sweat it.   _I hate talkin’ to strange people too_.”  She hadn’t even finished her sentence and yet that was exactly what she was thinking and then he continued to talk, “In fact, I kinda hate talkin’ to all **_people_**.”  He chuckled and took a big swig of his new beer.

“Yet, you’re _talking_ to _me_.”  She smirked at his failed logic, but the look that graced his face wasn’t one that someone would normally don after being corrected.

He just smiled genuinely and held his beer up as he stated, “ _Exactly_.”  Her look of confusion was truly profound now and she thought perhaps he was drunk.  There was no telling how many beers he’d had before she sat down.   _Oh great._

“So what da ya do for a living?”  He pried.

“Nothing anymore.”  If she was curt with him so maybe he would get the hint.

“Sounds boring.  What did ya do before that?”  He pried again.

“I made … uh … _web sites_.”  That was much simpler than explaining to him that she used to be a Senior User Interface and Experience Architect working on a joint venture between 10 fortune 500 companies.  And what she did _before_ that, she would definitely not mention to some _strange_ man in a random German airport restaurant.

“The things that show the _internet_?”

She laughed now, he was definitely an old man, “Yup, _those_ things.”

“That’s pretty neat!  I’m really enjoying the _internet_.  It’s making things much easier nowadays.”

She laughed again, that was very true.  His jovial nature made her relax a bit and she pried herself now, “What about you?  What do you do?”

“Me?”  He tried to look innocent and drank again, “Uhhh … I’m the senior manager of a large firm up north.”

“Up north?”

He stared at her for a moment and smiled, “ _Canada_.”

“What’s your firm do?”

Another smile and another drink, “ _Retirement_.”

“Long way from _Canada_ , Mike.  So, what brings _you_ to Germany?”  She asked him the same question that he had opened with.  If she could lob questions at him, maybe she would have to talk less.

“Just came to visit some family, actually.  What about you?  What was in Rome?”  He attempted his question again, as there would be no waitress to interrupt this time.

The alcohol was already loosening her up.  Damn.  “I was trying to … re-discover myself, I think.”

“Were you lost?”

“A little bit, I guess.”

“So, did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did you find yourself?”

She smiled at the question, because she wasn’t even sure if she had been successful in doing so yet.  She glanced at her phone and remembered the Facebook post as she cringed, “I don’t know yet.  I definitely wasn’t done looking, but I’m off on a quick detour for now.”

She was not normally so forthcoming with a stranger, but he seemed … She didn’t really know how to describe it.  He seemed nice.

“A detour for what?”

“A job interview.”

“Seems like a bad detour from f _inding yourself._ ”

She nodded and offered no other response.

“Well, I hope it works out for you.”  He brought his nearly empty glass up to connect with hers and he downed the last of it.  Waving to the waitress, he threw up two more fingers.

“Oh no no, I’m not done with this one yet.”  She countered and he laughed again.

“Better hurry up then.  So … how’d you get _lost_?”   _Goddamn, he was a talker._

The waitress was suddenly there with her food and she welcomed the moment of reprieve from the man’s questions.  But as she took her first bite and chewed it greedily, she looked up to his face as he was still patiently awaiting her answer.   _Damn_.

A suddenly disturbing thought crossed her mind as she realized she might be leading him on as a quick survey of his hand revealed no wedding ring, just an extremely large, gaudy silver ring that seemed out of place with his style.  She jumped to an embarrassing conclusion, “I’m sorry, but I’m not really open to _any_ kind of _relationship_ right now.”

His cackle was contagious and he threw his head back as it erupted from his mouth, which made her look around in shame.  Americans were always so loud to foreigners.

“NO no, you goof … I’m _married_.  No worries there.”

“Oh … sorry.  I just assumed…” and she pointed to his left hand.

“Yeah, I don’t wear one.  But yeah, _very happily_ …” His smile faded though and he stared down at his empty glass for a moment before continuing, “At least I hope still happily … we had a pretty big fight before I left.”

She quickly missed his jolly nature, “Big fight?  Over what?”

He sighed and took a drink of the next beer that was graciously delivered to him.  The waitress looked at her half full glass as she set the new one down and she felt pushed to down it quickly.   _Shit.  No more than two._

“I came here to do something she didn’t want me to.”  He moved the gaudy ring around his finger now as he spoke.

“And did you do it?”

He looked up from his glass and into her eyes.  His eyes were a dark green, just like hers, “I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’d say don’t do it then.”

He blinked at her and smiled, “Just like that?  You don’t even know what it is.”

She shrugged, “Happy wife … happy life.”  Now she raised her glass to his and he happily returned the gesture.

“It’s _that_ simple, huh?”

“It’s always _that_ simple.  Whatever it is … lemme ask you … If you _did_ do it, would she get over it?”

His smile faded again, “No.  I don’t blame her though.  I’m not even sure if I would get over it myself, honestly.”

“Then why _the fuck_ are you even considering it?  Who’s making you do it?”  Uh oh, she could feel that her words were a little slurry and she started to eat her food quicker.  Maybe it would pad her stomach a bit in preparation of the second Belgian that she had greedily started already.

“It’s for work.  And it’s not really _my_ decision.”

“For your retirement firm?”

“Yup.”

“And this choice might cost you your marriage?”  Her eyebrow was raised high in speculation.

He laughed mildly, “Basically.  And nothing is ever _that_ simple.  It could have _ramifications_ if I don’t.  Not doing it _might_ ruin my marriage anyways.”

“Do you love her?”

He smiled, “More than I’ve _ever_ loved _anything_ in my entire existence.  More than I even thought I was capable of … but … _rules_ are _rules_.  Without _rules_ , it would all just be chaos.”

“Wait … aren’t you the boss?”

He blinked at this, “Well … technically … _yes_ … but–”

“So, change the rules.”

He laughed out loud and watched her with amazement as she continued her explanation.  She raised both hands, with her palms up and she jiggled her right hand first.

“One.  You do what you are supposed to do … with 100% chance of losing your wife.  Hmmm.”  She lowered the right hand below the left and then jiggled the left.  “Two.  You don’t do it, and you **_might_** have to deal with consequences.  I don’t know … it may just be the mathematician in me talking, but option two seems like the better option.”

He stared down again and summed up her advice concisely, “So, just _fuck the rules_ , then?”

“ ** _Fuck the rules._** ”

He continued to stare at her and his grin was ridiculously large now, “You remind me of her a lot.   _Defiant_.  You two would get along.”

“Sounds like I would like her.  But, probably not, I don’t really like people either.”  She winked at him and realized that she had already finished the second beer.

“Ok then.  So be it.   _Happy wife, happy life_.” And he waved down the waitress giving her another two finger order.

“Oh no no, I really shouldn’t.”  But he completely ignored her.

She wasn’t even sure how long they had been speaking, but she liked talking to him.  He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say and that was super rare for her.  She didn’t like people, but in general, they didn’t like her either.  Maybe he was just too drunk to care?  She didn’t think he was drunk though, none of his words slurred, even after drinking the next beer within minutes of its arrival.

Somehow, he’d gotten her to talk in length about him and their breakup, her unwillingness to have children and her career.

She had revealed so much that she felt comfortable enough to ask him about his scar, “How’d _that_ happen?” and she pointed to his face.

“Ah … yeah … That was back when I was in the military.”  He shifted uncomfortably at its mention and she could detect that there was a story there.

“Were you deployed somewhere?”

“It happened a long, _long_ time ago.  We were sent into a village without the proper intel and … we were _unprepared_ … and … I lost my brother that day.”

His sadness was apparent and she offered an apology for bringing it up, “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to–”

“Nah, no worries.  Like I said, it was a long time ago … Besides … _screw yesterday_ , I always say.”  He thrust his glass towards her expecting her to do the same and she actually complied, offering him a clumsy cheers.  He smiled and added, “Here’s to today.”

“Today?  Not _tomorrow_?”

“Heck no.   _Tomorrow_ is overrated.  Ya know what they always say.”

She shook her head, unsure of what might come out of his mouth next, “ _ **Yesterday is dead** and tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet._ ”

“Gandhi?”  She questioned.  She remembered some kind of similar quote from Gandhi … maybe?  Shit, she knew she’d already had too much beer but she still took another swig of the third glass.

“Heck no!   _Groucho Marx!_  That man _is_ … **_was_** … a _genius_.  Gandhi is a little … pretentious for me.”  At this reveal she laughed into her gulp that was still in progress and spilled beer all over her face.  He laughed maniacally at it and she cleaned herself up with her napkin quickly before grabbing her phone from the table and checking the time.

 ** _“OH CRAP NUGGETS!”_**  She bolted up and tried to pull her wallet out, “I have to go!  OH SHIT.  I’m so sorry.  It was great to meet you.”  She was trying to calculate in her head how much to leave on the table and she felt his hand on hers as he reached across the table.

“Don’t worry about it. _This is on me._ ”

She didn’t normally let other people pay for her, but in her current panicked state she conceded, “Are you sure?”

“It was great to meet you.   _Good luck._ ”

She smiled at him and nodded, “You too.  Good luck with your decision.”

“And be careful …”  His concerned tone gave her pause but then she turned and ran down the terminal back to her gate.  She could already see that the plane was still at there and a wave of relief swept her.

_OH THANK GOODNESS._

She came up to the gate and pulled out her boarding pass, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am.  But boarding has completed.”  The lady was large, plump and older.  She was also unpleased and she spoke with a heavy German accent.

She stared at the plane out the window and pointed, “But I’m here!”

The lady shook her head, “Are you Ms. _Maxwell_?”

She nodded furiously, her heart racing madly.

“Ms. Maxwell, we’ve been paging you for 15 minutes.  I’m sorry, but the flight is completely full and we already gave your seat to the next person on standby.”

“How do you give a first class seat away to someone on _standby_?!”  Her drunken anger was apparent.

“We upgraded someone from business and then pulled a standby in for them.  We paged you for 15 minutes.  The outer plane door is already closed.  I’m sorry.”

She stared blankly at the plane outside and a shiver ran down her spine, “Ok then.  What do I do now?”

The lady handed her another boarding pass as she stated, “We’ve already moved you onto the next flight to JFK.  It will be leaving in four hours.  Your first class seat has been retained.  Next time, ma’am.  I would stay closer to the gate so that you can hear the pages.”

 _Rude_.  She walked away defeated and decided she might venture back to over to Mike then.  He was fun, but when she got back to the table, there was no longer any sign of him.

 _Damn_.

Now she had four hours to waste and she stared at her phone.  She should probably email Stoneheart to let them know she was gonna be later than expected now.


	71. 11.1 - Surrender

Quinlan watched her enter the room, avoiding his gaze with each step that she took.  He could read that her fear was gone and anger had replaced it, as she glared at the thing in the chair, holding her wrist firmly, but not rubbing it.

“I was _so very **certain**_ that you had killed her, _Invictus_.”  It hissed in delight.

Quinlan turned his head back around and locked stares with the now red-eyed minion and without giving away her position or location, Dutch gave a thumbs up from her seat in the corner.  The process had started and now they would need to keep it _on the line_ for at least five minutes.

“I was so sure … I _tasted_ her _through_ you.  Your enjoyment.  _That hunger_.”  The _Master_ licked its lips with the tip of its stinger and it began to break apart at the mere thought of it.

Quinlan simply leered as he tightened his grip on the handle of his sword.  The minion ears detected the ever so slight tense of his hand.

“Ahhhh … _i nunc intellegite._ ”  The _Master_ spoke directly to him in Latin now.

> _(Now I understand.)_

“ _Quae nunc animo fui._ ”  It continued. _  
_

> _(Now I understand what I’ve been feeling.)_

“ _Vel dicam animo quae audistis_?”

> _(Or, should I say, what you have been feeling?)_

It moved its eyes back to the woman and smiled fiercely, “How is _your **back**_ , my dear?”

Quinlan knew he had let an expression of shock slip across his face, his eyes had widened and the beast had seen.

“ _Numquid non scitis?_ ”  It questioned him.

> _(Did you not know?)_

He fought every blinding emotion that wished to escape, but he succeeded and remained entirely stoic.  His grip on the sword remained loose as he didn’t wish to give away anything _again_.  The _Master_ was most observant.  He turned to the woman who was still staring at the beast in the chair.  She remained unmoved … unafraid.

She shrugged and gave a genuine smile, “ _Better_.  Honestly, it used to _itch_ , though.  It was _really_ annoying for a while, but now I mostly forget.”

Quinlan could see that she was baiting him on purpose and … she was enjoying it slightly

“Hahahaha, no no no.  You don’t simply forget what we shared, _mihi in salutem_.”  It countered.

> _(my prize)_

“ _Thomas_ misses your _time_ together.”  Dutch tensed her position out of the corner of his eye.  She had been silent, as necessary, but her confusion was profound, she watched through wide curious eyes.

It continued. “And he would _very much_ like to thank you for not killing him before … But he would much prefer to **_thank you_** in person.”

This revelation hit Quinlan hard as he remembered the night that she had saved his life … _She hadn’t killed the Lapdog because … she saved **him** instead_.  A sickness overwhelmed his stomach at once.  She hadn’t killed the man who _whipped_ her … because she chose to save **_him_** instead.

“Sure thing.  Just tell me where and I’ll just swing by?  Do you mind if I bring some friends though?  It’d be rude to leave them out.  I kinda already told them I’d hang out today.”

His chuckle was short and he followed it up with something voiced directly to Quinlan now, “ _Quomodo eam requireris._ ”

> _(How I have missed her.)_

“This is quite the … _reversal_ , isn’t it?”  And it forcefully rattled the chair it was confined to.  “Does this please you, _my Poet_?  Now that I am the one in the _chains_?”

Quinlan’s internal conflict was mounting with every word spoken.  Why did it call her _Poet_?  And “ _its_ ” poet.  It had her in … _chains_?!   _Why had she kept this from him?_

_Patience, Quintus.  There will be time for answers later.  Focus on this right now._

He noted voices behind him and he quickly stepped back through the door and brought his finger to his lips to quiet the confused humans hiding on the other side.  Ephraim mouthed, “ _What is happening_?” to him but the dhampir ignored the question and returned to the room, finding that she had now sat in the chair, facing the beast directly.  Quinlan moved so that he stood just to her right side.

“It’s hardly the same, right?”  She responded. “You can simply _leave_ at any point.”

“But apparently you could as well … that was quite a _trick_ that you accomplished.  May I ask how?”

He watched her grip move from her wrist down to her thumb, “Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it.  A _good_ magician never reveals their secrets.”

He stared blankly at first with his mouth slightly agape, not fully processing what he had seen for a moment.  He had watched the motion of her grip shifting and it revealed that almost rectangular shape that he had been struggling to remember earlier.   _What … what does that mean?_

“I believe we both know that you had _**help** , didn’t you_, my dear?”

She waved a hand towards Quinlan now, “I guess I did, huh?   _He_ made you _formless_.  That definitely helped.”

Quinlan forced himself to continue to breath even though he almost held his breath for a moment.  If what she was saying was true, then he had helped her to escape before.

“I am not referring to my _petulant boy_.  I think you know that, **_en turbs tolteregi._** ”

The last bit was not Latin and Quinlan had recognized the last word immediately as he had just read it an hour before.   ** _Tolteregi_** was Enochian for _Creature_.  Noticing the shift of his head the _Master_ turned his attention back to his bastard and was about to speak when she spoke first.

“It was _just_ me … You _underestimated_ me.”

The laugh was sinister, “Oh my dear … trust me … I did not.”

She beamed with that gloriously wicked smile, the one which Quinlan both feared and enjoyed, “ _Apparently_ so.”

The next laugh was even more ominous than the last, “I admit that I have underestimated **_him_** in the past.”  The thing nodded towards the half-breed, “But _you_ were not the one that I apparently underestimated.  I know there are simply some _creatures_ that cannot be caged.  But … I _promise_ to do better next time.”

Quinlan took a step forward as he spoke and the thing shifted its attention back, “ _Et iterum non tangit eam_.”  He raised his sword as he spoke.

> _(You will never touch her again.)_

Dutch motioned from behind, making a rolling motion with her hand, meaning “keep it going” and Quinlan forced himself to calm as he heard her stand and felt her hand touch his forearm.  He relaxed his blade and took a step back.

The _Master_ sneered now, “ _Non est tibi._ ”

> _(She is not yours.)_

Quinlan countered, “ _Non est tibi aut._ ”

> _(She is not yours either.)_

The _Master_ smiled, “ _Non utique non aliud iam promiserunt._ ”

> _(Of course not, she has already been promised to another.)_

Quinlan spoke, “You fail to comprehend … _et non est alius.”_

> _(She belongs to no one.)_

The _Master_ responded, “ _Sed libavit eam tibi._ ”

> _(Yet you tasted her.)_

Quinlan did not respond and the _Master_ rattled his chair furiously at this, “ _Quae non ad tuam gustus, pueri sui._ ”

> _(She was not yours to taste, selfish boy.)_

Quinlan did not respond and the _Master_ asked, “ _Sentis tamen, filius stultus_?”

> _(Do you feel it yet, selfish child?)_

A twitch escaped him and he cocked his head to the right, “ _Sentiat_?”

> _(Feel what?)_

The _Master_ smiled, “ _Periculosum est tibi gustare._ ”

> _(It was a dangerous thing for you to taste her.)_

Quinlan repeated through a sneer, ““ ** _Sentiat_**?”

> _(Feel what?)_

The _Master_ responded, “ _In nexu._ ”

> _(The connection.)_

A chill shifted along Quinlan’s spine and his eyes grew wide … He was about to question what connection when her soft voice spoke from behind.

“You know that’s rude right?”  Quinlan looked back and saw she was actually addressing _him_.  He blinked at her strict reprimand, “You both know _English_.”

The _Master_ answered, “Of course, my apologies.  We were just speaking about how much my son ado–”

“Careful, _snake_.”  Quinlan said sharply and made a motion to raise his blade before his father smiled.

“I came to speak with _you_ , anyways, precious one.   _Not him.  Not … them_.”  And it thrust its head forward towards the door.

“Speak to _me_ then.”  Her hand went to her temple briefly as she rubbed it.  Her mannerisms weren’t of fear now, but of pain.  Quinlan could tell that something was bothering her.

“Return and I will spare _their_ lives.”

She laughed at the _offer_ , “Oh yeah?  Even **_his_**?”  And she jerked her head in the direction that Quinlan stood.

“Well … I _might_ consider it.  If you return.  I am … open to _discussing_ it further.  I can let you keep him … as a _pet_.”

She laughed, “Really?  Because if I recall, you wanted to _kill_ me.”

“My dear … I would _never_ kill you.  That would defeat the entire purpose of _all_ this.”

“You beat me … without reason … for weeks … and then offered me a knife to ‘ _release_ ’ myself, didn’t you?”

Quinlan looked to Dutch as he clutched his sword again but she continued her rolling motion and then gave a ‘two’ number up using her index and middle finger.   _Two more minutes_.  He really wasn’t sure if he could allow this strigoi shell to last _that_ long.

It laughed, “In hindsight, _the knife_ may have been a _poor_ choice, considering what you did with it.  But I promise not to _hurt_ you again.  There is no further need now.”

Her hand went back up to her temple briefly before she continued, “ _Why_?”

“Perhaps I just _enjoy_ you and _most_ of your pleasant little poems.”

“ _ **Bullshit** … why_?”

He laughed so very loudly now, “It’s because I like _your eyes_ , my dear.”

Quinlan blinked at the statement.   _What … What did the snake just say? Why would the Master say that?  Had it gotten it from Quinlan himself._  Apparently the shock was visible and the _Master_ turned back to him, confused why its statement would affect his son as such as well.  Now, father and son stared at one another in fundamental confusion.

Dawn snapped her fingers in the direction of the controlled minion, “ _Over here_ , big boy.   ** _Why_**?”

“I think you _know_ you aren’t like everyone else.”

“Everyone _thinks_ they are special … especially _this_ generation.”  She shot a particularly dirty look towards Quinlan and he looked away, ashamed and uncomfortable.  He knew that would come back to bite him eventually.  The _Master_ surely noted it.

“Sorry to disappoint you.  But look at me … there is nothing _special_ about me.”

“You _know_ I have _his_ memories now, child.”

She sat more upright in the chair.

“I told you … if you ran … I would find them … I would find them _all_ and they would _suffer_ … and anyone who would help … _will suffer._ ”

Dawn closed her eyes tightly before attempting to speak, but nothing came out.

“I made your _brunette friend_ suffer most of all …”

“ ** _LIES_**.”  She spat at the creature, her eyes furious with anger, “She was **_ALREADY_** dead.”

The _Master_ blinked, “How did you … hmmm … of course you know.”  It threw its head up and chuckled upwards, “Of course she knows.  _Meddlers_.”

Quinlan could hear her heart racing and he placed his hand on her shoulder.  She looked up at him with those furious eyes but as they met his, her fury melted and she succumbed to his voiceless instruction: _Calm your fire_.

“Everything you speak is _lies_.  Why would I make any type of deal with you, _snake_?”  She said and Quinlan smiled as she used _his_ word against the creature now.

“I have _him_ now.  I can assure you I didn’t before and I have his memories … I know what you are capable of.”

“ _Him_??”  She baited it, Quinlan could tell she wasn’t being genuinely inquisitive.  He knew, from her and Dutch’s conversation on the roof, to whom the _Master_ referred.  He knew she had a husband at some point who had left her for another woman.  What circumstances that might have occurred that would have made that possible were beyond his ability to comprehend though.

“Your _Beloved_.”  And even though he had _no right_ to despise this title given to a man he didn’t know, he did.  He despised both the title and the man.

She laughed.  There was a brokenness about it, a sadness to it, a defeat and Quinlan furrowed his brow at her tone.  The grief behind her voice displeased him, “ _Beloved_ implies _LOVE_.  I have _none_ left for that man, _snake_.  I have none left for anyone … He made his choice.  It was **_not_** me.”

“You think leaving you was his choice, _Poet_?  Do you not understand yet that we are all just pawns in a much bigger game?”  Quinlan did not like the nicknames and the _Master_ could read it on him and turned its attention to him briefly after it.  But only briefly, it was obvious that _she_ was its object of desire right now and it looked back to her.

“ _She_ was _his_ _choice_ , **_yes_**.  We all have _choices_.  I am _no one’s_.”

The _Master_ grinned at her, “You are _my_ _choice_.”  Quinlan closed his eyes tightly and then looked at the Hacker who still stared at her screen.   _Keep going.  Damnation._

“Yet, it is _you_ who are his _dear one,_ not _her_.  She was a means to an end.  He _loved_ you but his _fear_ –”

“ _This_?   _ **This** is your **offer** to me?_  To give me a man who picked another _woman_ over me?”  Her voice cracked as she spoke, “ ** _Trust me_** … I don’t need that **_offer_** again …”  Quinlan stiffened at the use of the word _offer_.  He knew she used it because it was fresh in her mind, its meaning hurt her in more than one way right now and she used that to fuel her anger further.  Was this _offer_ not similar to the one that _he_ had given her the night before?

The _Master_ considered in silence for a moment.  “Perhaps not then.”  And the beast changed its tactic

“ ** _Goodweather_**!”  It called out to the door behind her, “ ** _Goodweather_**!  Zach for the _woman_ … Give her to me, and I will return your son to you.”

Quinlan heard the Doctor tighten from behind the wall, but everything remained still and quiet.  The creature showed even more desperation.

“ ** _Abraham_**.”  It purred … “I will give you the German.  I will **_GIVE_** him to you and you can do with him as you see fit.  I will give you both the child and the Nazi, in exchange for this _woman_.”

There was no movement from the corridor and Quinlan was relieved.  He wasn’t sure what the humans might do with such an offer.  He looked toward the Hacker and she still stared at her screen.  It had been long enough, had it not?  She finally looked up to his eyes and shrugged meekly, continuing her spinning fingers as she mouthed the words, “Two more minutes” to him.

“Why?”  She pushed again.

It licked its lips.  Quinlan knew it did this just to torment him now.  “I will tell you everything … all answers to any questions … but not through this _shell_.”

“ ** _I find your offer wanting_.** ”  She stood now as Dutch mouthed the words “one minute” to them.

It smiled, “Are we done so soon then?  How I have missed your voice.  How I would love to hear another verse from you and not _that same boring one_ , over and over and over again.  I am already well aware that you are the _captain of your soul_ … recite something more … exciting for me.”

She stood entirely still for a moment, considering carefully and it prodded her again, “Something not _so crippled_ with pain.”  That smile.  Quinlan would wipe it from its face _very soon_.

She stepped forward and he almost reached out to prevent her from getting closer, yet he thought again and stood his ground as he had taken _enough_ from her lately.

And when she started, he could hear the smile through which she spoke.  He remembered the tone, it was the same as she’d used when she recited _Invictus_ to him on the couch.

> “‘Twas brillig, and the silthy toves …
> 
>    Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
> 
> All mimsy were the borogoves,
> 
>    And the mome raths outgrabe.”

She paused briefly and the Hacker rolled her fingers again … a little more.

> “Beware the **_Jabberwock_** , my son!”

She turned and looked at Quinlan before diverting her attention back to the monster at hand.

> “The _jaws_ that _bite_ , the _claws_ that _catch_!”

The _Master_ laughed and rattled its chair.  It was enjoying this quite a bit.

> “Beware the Jubjub _bird_ , and shun … The Frumious _Bandersnatch_.”

Dawn turned and reached for Quinlan’s sword without taking her eyes from the beast.  He relinquished his grip on it and gave her control as she completed the next verse.

> “He took his vorpal _sword_ in hand;”

She spun and looked at Quinlan again, meeting his eyes fully and holding his gaze through the following verse.

>    “Long time the manxome foe he sought–
> 
> So rested he by the Tumtum tree
> 
>    And stood awhile in thought.”

She turned back to the _Master_ and held the blade so that it pointed towards it directly

> “And, as in uffish thought he stood,
> 
>    The **_[Jabberwock](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.poetryfoundation.org%2Fpoems-and-poets%2Fpoems%2Fdetail%2F42916&t=NmI1OTk3MWZlNzA0MzVlZWMyNmE1YWI0YTRmYTgwNzc3NWUzNmQyNCw2WEVzRm15OQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&m=1)_** , with **_eyes of FLAME_** ,
> 
> Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
> 
>    And _burbled_ as it came.”

She took another step towards the beast, taunting it with her words, taunting it with the blade and it loved it.  It laughed and rattled its chair again, licking its lips again and again.

> “One, two! One, two! And through and through
> 
>      The _vorpal blade_ went snicker-snack!
> 
> He left it **_dead_** , and with its **_head_**
> 
>      He went galumphing back.”

She looked to the Hacker who gave her a massive thumbs up now.  They were good to go, but Quinlan knew she wasn’t done yet and she continued.

> “And hast thou slain the **_Jabberwock_**?
> 
>      Come to my arms, my _beamish_ boy!
> 
> O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
> 
>      He _chortled_ in his joy. “

She paused briefly and then repeated the first verse again.

> “’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
> 
>      Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
> 
> All mimsy were the borogoves,
> 
>      And the mome raths outgrabe.”

She raised the blade and Quinlan nearly breathed a sigh of relief, when she paused and stared at the creature who beamed back at her now.  Its smirk was impressive.  Quinlan wished to take the sword back from her and end this.

“You know … I always wondered … why does it repeat at the end?”  Her arm relaxed a bit and she smiled at the thing in the chair, “Why repeat the first verse again?  Such a small poem, right?”

The _Master_ cocked its head and its smile slowly faded as she continued her analysis of the final verse, “Until one day, ** _I realized_** … It’s because the _Jabberwock_ doesn’t matter … at all.  It never did.  You see … the world was the same _before_ it came … and the world would be the same _after_ it’s long gone.”

Something changed in the creature’s demeanor as her words struck something fundamental in its mind.  She had taken control of the conversation entirely and the _Master_ knew it was no longer pleased.

“ _Do you understand me, bandersnatch?_  The world will be the same after **_he_** takes **your head** … _we won’t even remember you were here. **Yesterday is dead.**_ ”

The _Master_ started to hiss something in retort, but Quinlan’s training with the blade had been retained and she swung it clean and she swung it well.  Quinlan knew that she could swing it hard, just as she had done with that metal bar in that cold, concrete room so many nights ago.

Its head fell to the ground with a satisfying thump.

  
  



	72. 11.2 - Surrender

Dutch jumped up from her seat in a flurry of words, “I got it, _we_ got it, _WE GOT THAT MUTHERFUCKER._  I know where he is!”

The men who had stayed out of sight rushed into the room and towards the Hacker, stepping on the worms that now covered the floor as they went.

Fet asked in desperation, “Where is he?  How far is it?”

Abraham was first, “We have to move _NOW!_   Mr. Quinlan!”

However, Quinlan made no movement or response.  He simply stood completely still, transfixed on the woman and he finally spoke as she handed the sword back to him without shifting her gaze from the body in the chair, “What was _that_?”

Everyone shuffled out of the room in a rush and she followed them, ignoring him and his question entirely.

 _Unacceptable_.

He followed and before she had reached the stairs, he grabbed her arm to halt the retreat.  She would not ignore him any longer, nor these questions.  He had allowed this game to go on for too long.

**_“Dawn, what was that?”_ **

“You now know as much as I do.  Your father isn’t exactly … _forthcoming_.”

He could see the shame rush over her face and her left hand darted for her right wrist.  He grabbed her right wrist now, to stop her from that incessant rubbing, bringing it up so that her mark was visible between them and he questioned even further, the slightest hint of mild panic and rattle trailed on his voice.  “And what is **_THIS_**?”

He looked at it closer now and he was certain.  It was the same general shape as the drawing in the Lumen.  He had not been this forceful with her since that concrete room and she desperately tried to pull away from him.  He did not allow it.

“What is THIS?” He demanded again, shoving her inner wrist towards her face.

“ _STOP_!  It’s just an _Angel’s Kiss_.  I just rub it–”

Quinlan gasped silently and he interrupted her with another question, _“What did you just say?”_

She tried to pull away from him again, but he held her tightly, _“It’s just a birthmark.  Chill out.”_

**_“What did you call it?”_ **

“Eph said it’s called an _Angel’s Kiss_.”

Quinlan released her at once and she stumbled back slightly before catching her balance.  Glaring at him, she turned to go up the stairs.

“MR. QUINLAN!” Abraham screamed from above.  Quinlan took a moment to regain his composure.  This was not the _right moment_ for this.  They knew the _Master_ ’s location and now that needed to take precedent.

By the time he was up the stairs and back into the common area, he saw her grabbing the bag.  She swung it around and onto her back, pulling the straps down to make it tight on her frame.

_Damnation.  That GOD DAMNED bag._

“MR. QUINLAN!”  Abraham called to him from the door.

“Everyone is in da van, let’s go!  LET’S GO!  We dun know how long he’ll be there!”  Fet screamed to the dhampir from the doorway.

Quinlan watched the woman walking quickly towards the door, “Where are you going?”  He challenged as he cut off her exit.

“Mr. Quinlan, we don’t have time for **_THIS_** now.”  Abraham was angrier than he had ever been with the half breed, which Quinlan ignored completely.

“I ask that you stay until we return.”

She blinked at him now as if it was entirely obvious, “What?  No.  I’m coming with you …”

Quinlan shook his head fiercely, “ _Absolutely not._ ”  He had actually assumed she was leaving entirely, but she would _not_ be coming with them either.

“I’m going.  Let’s go get your _Jabberwocky_ , _beamish boy_.”

“ _Absolutely not, I **ask** that you stay here until we return.”_

“Screw that.”  He twitched at her, “I can help.”

_“Stay until we return … please.  There are too many questions.”_

“There are no answers to _these_ questions.”

Quinlan was grasping at straws now, his desperation weighed heavily on his rational thoughts.  “It was you that he was searching for at the factory, wasn’t it?  Was _that_ what the **_voice_** told you to keep from me?”

“ _What_ … What did you say?  What _who_ told me?  How … ?”  Her question trailed off.

 _“Don’t you see … You are **not** mad. _  Stay here and we shall address this when I return.”

“MISTER QUINLAN!!” Abraham barked again, his patience was completely gone and Quinlan ignored him still.

“We are all mad here, I’m mad … you’re ma–”  She chimed and he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her quickly.

 ** _“This is NO TIME FOR POETRY!!!”_**  His frustration was climaxing.

“That’s just a quote, it’s not actually poet–”

“Will you stay _or not_?”  A strigoi growl escaped him as he twitched with the last question, his nose crunching in uncontrollable jerks.  His eyes were furious at her continued refusal to comply.  Quinlan retained control of all aspects of his life, but he could not control this situation.  There simply wasn’t enough time now.

“Mr. Quinlan, I’m going.”

And even before she spoke, he knew he had already lost the battle to convince her to stay.  He knew that fight had been lost the night before when he had told her of _Tasa_.  And now given what was disclosed by the conversation with the _Master_ , he realized it had actually been vicious salt in an unhealable wound.  He had called her _self-centered,_ when he had never considered what _his_ words might have done.  All he had thought of was himself and his own shame.  No matter how logical it would be for her to stay, for _them_ to understand what all of this meant, he knew she would not listen to him.

“I cannot … _not again … **never again** …_ ”  Quinlan murmured under his breath as he was suddenly and irreversibly crushed by memories that he had refused to let consume him for hundreds and hundreds of years.  As he grabbed the Poet, his mind was swamped with the _dark haired lady’s_ beautiful brown eyes, encircled in red that day … her birthday.  As his imagination envisioned those dragonfly eyes overlaid with their own red circles, Quinlan snapped.

“ _Forgive me._ ”  He moved his hands from her shoulders to her hips and effortlessly plucked her from the ground, throwing her body over his left shoulder.

Her protest was immediate and painfully frantic, trying to pull herself free of his supernatural grip as she began to scream, **_“NO NO, PUT ME DOWN.  MR. QUINLAN, NO!  LET ME GO!”_**

“I _cannot_ … Forgive me …”  His conscious thoughts were overwhelmed so absolutely by the sound of his father’s taunting promise through his wife’s voice that day, “[I will find everyone that that you will ever _love_.  I will find _them._](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/153393133851/interlude-6-the-great-escape#ever-loved) _”_

Fet made a move forward and Abraham put his arm out to stop the big man, as Quinlan locked eyes with the old man and there was something particularly troubling in his face, as he turned and walked towards the back hallway.  She continued to struggle as Quinlan heard the conversation that unfolded behind him.

“We can’t let him–”

“Mr. Fet … go wait in the van.”

**_“We can’t–”_ **

“Mr. Fet.  Van.   ** _Now_**.”

“I _cannot_ … Forgive me …”  Quinlan repeated the same mantra over and over as he carried her down the steps, while she continued to scream at him.  Her panicked voice was almost distant to him in his mind as the only sound he could hear at that moment replayed again and again in his mind … over and over … It was the sound his sword made _that day_ , when it removed his wife’s head from her body.

“STOP IT!”  She cried as he carried her, her bag rocking from side to side on her back, “PUT ME DOWN.  STOP THIS!   ** _YOU FUCKING ANIMAL_**.”  She began to scratch at his head and face and then at his neck as he stepped down the stairs.  She knew that skin was so sensitive and he pulled her down from his shoulder as he reached the bottom step, letting her feet hit the ground as he _hissed_ at her as only a strigoi could.  She recoiled at his inhuman behavior, he’d never hissed to her … nor to any of them.  But that skin was sensitive and she was viscous with her short nails.

With her new found freedom, she attempted to run past him and he grabbed her left wrist, continuing to walk towards the small room as he dragged her along.  She pulled furiously at his thumb and he knew that if he had been human, she would have been able to release herself, but he was not.  He pulled her into the small concrete room.

She no longer voiced anything, she just railed against his grip and he held her while he ripped the chair that housed the limp strigoi body from the welded metal that held it securely to the ground.  He dragged her along as he chucked the chair and its contents out of the room.  The sudden motion caused her to trip across her own foot as she struggled to pull herself free and he caught her before she hit the ground swinging his arm underneath her.

“ ** _ENOUGH_**!” He commanded sharply.  She had to understand this was not a fight she was capable of winning, did she not?  But he knew that she would continue to fight regardless, just as she had the last time they were in a small concrete room.  He reached for the head, turning his back to her as he bent to grab for it.  He was not about to lock her in that room with a corpse covered in worms.  He was not worried about her running, he was between her and the door and he was _much_ faster than she.  

As he straightened back up he felt the blade tip against his ribs, in that very special place he had showed her.  Where she had been hiding the blade mattered not now, though he pondered anyways while he released his grip on her wrist and completely froze.  

He knew that at this point in time, he was not in any danger from her at all.  He could quickly disarm her with his speed.  However, she did not need to give him this _warning_ either.  While he had been bent over, distracted with the head, she could have pushed the blade into him quickly and ended it then.  She had not.

He turned slowly as the words escaped his mouth, “Do it.”  Now he faced her and he could see the tears streaming down her spotted face, the blade still pushed firmly against his vest at that deadly angle.  Her green eyes were sad and swollen from crying.

“Do it!”  He commanded her as he surrendered to her in this moment, pleading, “ _Free yourself._  Free us both _from this_.”  He deserved no less for what he was doing to her.  He knew he was _caging_ her … again.  There could no forgiveness for it.

“Just … _just let me go_.”  She knew her own threat had no real merit as her voice quivered in hesitation and doubt.  He stepped towards her, pushing the blade through the first layer of his vest and she stepped back.  He repeated the action until that her back and that _bag_ were firmly pushed against the wall.

“ _Do it._ ”  He repeated more gently this time as she stared up to him, “ _Save yourself from me …_ ”

“Please.”  This was the first time he had ever heard her beg, “I don’t want to have to … _please_.”

“ ** _Neither do I_**.”  His voice was equally as pleading as he stared down at her lips briefly before he turned and the blade fell back to her side.  He retreated to the door and hesitated for a moment before turning back to her.  “We _must_ understand what he wants from you.”

She had slid down the wall and now sat on the cold concrete ground with her legs stretched out in front of her, staring at the blade in her hand.  It was the same Bowie knife he had given to her that day in the gym.

“He took _everything_ from me …”  Quinlan paused and finished his thought, “I cannot … _I will not_ … let him do it again.”

“Your _revenge_ is so important to you … _What about **mine**?  What about **MY**_ **** _revenge?_ ”  She stared at the blade as the tears dropped from her jawline onto her shirt below.  “So now I am just **_leverage_**?  For you to lock up just like he did?”

She missed the point of his words, but it mattered not, “I will _end this now_.”  He waited for her to look back to him, but she did not and he shut the door, locked it, and secured the crossbar in place.

“ _Forgive me._ ” He uttered as he laid his right palm on the cold metal of the door.

“ ** _MR. QUINLAN!_** ”  The old man was angry and he came back up the stairs and stopped before him.

The Professor stood in the doorway and addressed him with a simple statement, “You said you would not force her to stay.”

“I think these new revelations trump that prior statement.  The _Master_ covets her, Professor.  I conjecture, more so than even the _Lumen_ itself.”

Abraham looked down and offered one thing before they left for the van, “I agree.  But if we do not return?  If we fail?  What _fate_ are you leaving her to locked in that room?”

**_“We will not fail.”_ **

* * *

 

“Master?”  Thomas asked gently.  He had witnessed his liege become silent over five minutes before and he patiently waited for him to finish whatever task he was remotely executing.

The _Master_ smiled now as he returned to his primary body.  He ventured over to the large desk that occupied the corner and picked up the manilla envelope on it, flipping through it carefully, stopping on one of the last pages.  It was the woman’s resume.  

“Master, is everything alright?”

“She’s alive.”  He smiled deeply as he ran his fingers over the page and Thomas looked closer at it.  He ran his fingers over a set of letters that said “ _Signal Based Geolocation Methodologies_ ”.

“She lives?”  The bafflement on his voice was obvious.

“They will be here soon … Such a _clever but foolish boy_.  Bring me our new shipment and prepare the vehicle.  We need to leave now.  Clear the building.  I have a job for the _humans_.”

The _Master_ smiled as he recalled every detail of the room.  The door had been open and he could see the unpainted drywall beyond it.  He remembered the concrete floor and the paint that had been flaked off of it in several used places.  The paint was a dark brown.  He remembered the smell of all the dried human foods that occupied the room on the other side of the cell.

And then he perused his vast memory, pulling up the memory of the loss of two strigoi sentries that had inexplicably disappeared from a sweep team the previous week.  He remembered this specifically, because the floor had been painted a dark brown, the walls were unfinished and the smell of the dried foods was quite strong.

“What job, my _Master_?”

“I need them to retrieve something for me.”


	73. 11.3 - Surrender

Dutch sat in silence, trying desperately to keep her laptop from sliding off of her lap while the van bounced from side to side barrelling clumsily down the road.  There had been a minor fight when Quinlan _finally_ came to the van and demanded to drive.

“Mr. Fet, I would like to get there _before_ next week.”

“What da hell is dat supposed to mean?!”

She was glad he had relented when Fet promised to “drive like da devil”.  She didn’t really trust Quinlan driving for some reason, but now even Fet’s speed was terrifying her.

She had asked three times where Dawn was before Quinlan finally answered, “I asked that she stay behind.”  And that was the last time anyone spoke for a number of minutes.

The geolocation showed up somewhat central, snugly within the area of the occultation.  At their speed, it would take them a little over an hour to reach it.  Fet said it was a tall office building, and given the altitude that was returned during the calculation, the _Master_ was likely on the 50th or so floor.

This fact had pleased Quinlan.  “Good, there will be nowhere to flee.”

She shouted directions to Fet as she read them from her laptop.  She also stared at the processing that was currently taking place on her screen.  It had taken so much longer to process the _Master_ ’s location because that _damn_ interference signal had popped back up.  They hadn’t seen it for weeks, not sense the factory.  The first couple of minutes while they had the monster bantering, she had to configure a filter on the fly to remove it, but now that she had this extra time, she ran the original data back through the processor.

She blinked at the result and she mumbled to herself under her breath, “That’s not right.  That can’t be right.”

“What is it, Miss Velders?”  Quinlan asked, as he had heard her mumble quite clearly.

“Nothing.  The interference signal … it located to …”  But she considered silently now, as she stared at the map, with the ellipsis directly encompassing their house. The interference signal was coming from _their_ house and it had been coming from … that factory before.  She looked up and saw Quinlan staring directly at her.  “It’s nothing.   _Nevermind_.”

“Are you able to run your locator on the target area now?  Can we see if there are minions around it?” He asked her next.

“No, not from here.  I’d need to set up a receiver to connect the laptop to … we’re going in blind, I’m afraid.  A scan of this area from a few days ago showed light activity at best, though.”

She’d run the entire city through a scan over the last few days and showed minimal activity over it all.  Since the bulk of the army seemed to be moving around underground, that was likely why.  The receivers were set up above ground.

She closed her laptop and silently considered the interference signal again.

That’s just … _not possible._

 

* * *

 

She hadn’t really given up.  When she had slid down the wall and stopped fighting, it was because she saw an opportunity for how she might be able to escape and so she had feigned defeat.

She waited until she heard the van drive away before she got back to her feet and surveyed the room.  He’d ripped the chair out, but there were still pieces of metal left in the ground and it only took her a few minutes to dislodge one of them.   _Excellent_.

Fet had taken most of the deadbolts, three out of the four, and reversed them from being on the inside to being on the outside.  He’d done the same with the handle, but he hadn’t reversed the door itself … its hinges were still on this side.  The crossbar would be a problem as it was attached via hooks that he had welded onto the door itself.

She pulled the table over that Dutch had been using.  Pushing it against the door and wall, she crawled on top of it as she wedged the tip of the piece of metal against the pin of the hinge and began to tap on it with butt of the handle of her Bowie knife.  At first, there was no give, but as she increased the force, it began to move slowly up.

 _Bam_!

It had taken her a while to relieve all four hinges of their pins, but when she completed, she moved the table away and began to pull on the handle.  The door didn’t give.

_Goddamn crossbar!_

The door was now ridiculously loose, but she was unable to move it.  If she could lift the door, it would lift the crossbar off of its outside hooks which attached it to the wall, but she could not, the frame was preventing her from moving it vertical and horizontal.

“ _FUCK_!”  She screamed upwards as she kicked the metal door with all her might.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to offer **_ANY_** help right now?!”  She called out to the _dark voice_ and received no response.

“I didn’t think so, you ass–” She cut off her insult when she heard an engine outside.  Had they come back?  So soon?  Did they realize what he had done and come back to let her out?

She pressed her ear up to the metal and listened carefully.  She backed away from the door quickly when she heard the three gunshots and then the front door hitting the ground.  They’d shot out the hinges.

_Oh shit.  Those aren’t friendlies._

It had to be humans at least.  There was still hours of daylight left.  She grabbed the pins and worked quickly to hammer them back into place as she locked the fourth deadbolt that still resided on her side, turning to her bag.   _The gun._

 

> 
>     “They are coming for you now.  There are five of them.  They are _highly_ trained.  They have been told to take you alive, _at all costs_.”  The _voice_ spoke now.

She verified the gun was fully loaded and took the extra magazine, shoving it into her front pocket.  She hide the knife back under her belt and went to her knees on the ground, in quiet meditation, breathing deeply and rhythmically, trying to remember Mr. Parker’s teachings again, but it was not his voice that she now heard in her mind.

It was Quintus’ voice, “Always allow them to underestimate you initially.”

She heard the crossbar move and each lock clank open in order from top to bottom.  Then the handle jiggled, but the fourth deadbolt prevented the door from opening.

Quintus’ voice, “Always show them fake weakness.”

She breathed deeply, clutching the gun in her hand.

Quintus’ voice, “Always make them assume that you are just _a simple human._ ”

Before the door flung open, she heard one last thing from the voice.

 

> 
>     “Calm your fire, my child.  **_You were born to this._**   The tall one has a bad right knee and the short one is near sighted.”

 

* * *

 

They had come in through the garage, but as far as they could tell, the entire building was completely deserted.  Quinlan looked around and listened.  Nothing.  This made him particularly nervous, as this is exactly how it had been last time when the _Master_ had set a trap for them.

But unlike last time, he would not venture off on his own.

“Top floor.”  Dutch instructed them.

The building still had power, but of course it did.  The _Master_ wouldn’t have had it any other way.  Thousands of years of living underground like a snake, it was obvious that his father was relishing being allowed to live in the open.

The elevator required a key card for the top floor, so they got off one below and Quinlan ripped the hinges off the locked stairwell door entry.  He could hear and smell only single strigoi within.

He was nearly at the door to an office and they trailed closely behind him, when he heard that familiar voice, “Do come in!”

He rounded the frame and saw the strigoi shell standing in front of a large desk, smiling with its eyes enclosed in red.  It was not Palmer’s body though, the _Master_ had chosen a tall, slender woman with dark hair and dark eyes.  Quinlan sneered at this.  He knew his father was baiting him.

“I am so happy that you were able to join me.”  It said to them as they entered the room and Dutch set her jamming box onto the ground, attempting to start it, but Quinlan waved to her to stop.  This was not the Master and he could easily dispatch it should they require it.  Instead he pointed to her laptop and she nodded, pulling it open.

“Oh please, don’t bother.  None of us will be around long enough for that to matter again.”  It laughed as Quinlan moved around it, he could see the familiar looking briefcase on the desk behind it.

 _Damnation_.  At this revelation, the creature continued to laugh until Quinlan had relieved it of its head.

“What is that?”  Abraham asked as Quinlan looked at the top of the case.  It was different than the previous one, the one that he had watched the Lapdog trigger in the sewer.  This one was running on a timer which had just passed twenty seconds as it counted down.

“That’s a bomb, isn’t it?”  Gus stated the obvious and started to move towards the door.  Quinlan considered many things right now, but none of them were viable options in the time that remained.  He could shoot the window and chuck it as far as possible, but there was no way he could get it far enough for the hypocenter of the blast to not entirely vaporize him and his companions.

_Indeed, there is nowhere to flee._

“Oh fuck man, OH SHIT.  What does it say?!  Can we run?!”  Fet panicked.

“This is it, he won.”  Ephraim said and grabbed Dutch, hugging her tightly.

Quinlan stared at the number pad and considered trying something, anything, but he wasn’t sure what it would do, then he turned to the _Hacker_ , “Can you disarm this?!?”

She laughed now, “I wouldn’t even know where to–”

“TRY SOMETHING!” He commanded her in desperation, but she responded by burying her face into the shoulder of the Doctor.

He stared at the clock.

10 …

He remembered the _Poet_ … locked in that room.

9 …

She would die there.

8 …

_Oh Gods, what had he done?!_

7 …

He had _failed_ … he had failed _them_ all, but at this precise instant, he had failed _her_ the most.  The _Master_ would find her now …

6 …

He felt the tremble again.  It was a low rumble at first and the voice was strict and commanding as it always had been.

##      “Ten twelve thirtynine.”

Quinlan punched in the numbers quickly but the countdown continued and his eyes grew wide.

5 …

##     “The day he **made** you.”

The Poet’s face was the only thing his mind could picture right now, as he prepared himself in this moment before his death.  And in this moment, of all the things that he had ever done or failed to do that he would regret the most, he _regretted_ refusing to kiss her, both in that tunnel and later in that room.  He had so many chances and even as he had stared at her lips before locking her away, he had considered it then.  _Pathetic coward_.

4 …

##     “Pound!  YOU FOOL!   **POUND**!!!”

The voice screamed at him and he hit the “#” button immediately while the clock stopped on ‘3’.  An immense rush of exquisite relief caused Quinlan’s knees to buckle and he hit the floor with the case still in his hands.  It had been over a millennium since he had last felt fear like that.

Dutch sheepishly opened her eyes, one at a time and looked around, “Why aren’t we dead?”

 

* * *

 

 

> **Visual Inspiration:** Carlos Quevedo
> 
> _I find his celestial art very inspirational.  Be sure to look at the following pics before you read the next section._ (◠‿◠✿)ノ **  
> **
> 
> **[Michael](http://carlos-quevedo.deviantart.com/art/The-Essences-611512068?q=Carlos-Quevedo%2F24949583&qo=6) **
> 
> **[Raphael](http://carlos-quevedo.deviantart.com/art/R-A-P-H-A-E-L-463142926) **
> 
> ****

 

“ _Brother_ , who is a _fool_?”  The tall and slender, long brown-haired man asked from under his thick white robe.

Michael turned to address his uninvited visitor, “Yes, what is it?”  His heart was still racing mildly.

The slender man shifted uncomfortably, “I knocked, but you did not answer.  Were you … _visiting_ , sir?  I thought all visits were currently _disallowed_ … _by you_.”

“Of course _not_.  The gate remains sealed and visits are prohibited.”  Michael clutched his staff firmly before resting it against the wall and sitting down at his massive desk.

“I felt _the tremble_ , _brother_ … if felt as if you were–”

“I was deep in thought.  To what do I owe this _intrusion_?”  He pushed for this interaction to be done.

“The recent influx of arrivals have stretched the staff to the very brink, I’m afraid.  We will need to ask for more volunteers to aid in the incoming _transitions_.”

“So be it.”  He attempted to wave his younger sibling away again.

“Sir, perhaps instead of dealing with the influx, we should deal with the problem _directly_ , as I sugg–”

“This has _already_ been discussed.  The gates are sealed and I will not unseal them”  He swiveled his chair around to look out over the vastness that expanded beyond his office windows.

“Perhaps you’ve grown too complacent in your old age, _Brother_.”

“Do **_not_** test me, Raphael.  You will _not_ win this fight.”

“You are so quick to threaten me … yet you cower to _him_.  What happened to you, _brother_.”

Michael spun around in his chair quickly and came to his feet, towering over his Brother, “I do not cower and I do not _fear_.”

“Is that why you do not let it heal, then?”  His little brother pointed to the scar that still ran down his left cheek.

“I do not let it heal, because I shall never forget what happened that day.  So that it may _never_ happen again.”  The sadness and shame on his face was evident.

“Is _that_ why you are so unwilling to act against _him_ now?   _Pity_?”  He was fierce in his retort but Michael simply sat down and spun his chair back to the massive windows while he waved him away.

“We shall see how the humans deal with their own mess for once.   _Leave me_.”

His brother offered one last sentence before retreating, “I doubt you have forgotten … this is not _their_ mess, **_SIR_** … it has always been ours … the _three_ of us.”

He stared at the clouds in the distance until he heard the door close behind him.  He then looked towards his intricately carved staff leaning against the wall.   _He was nearly caught._  He would have to be more careful in the future.

This was a dangerous game they were playing.

He stared back out in the vastness of the sky, “Your move, _Brother_.”

 

* * *

 

“We should get back … _now_.”  Quinlan began to move towards the door, still holding the case.

“Wait, you bringin’ dat thing?”  Fet pointed to the bomb with giant eyes.

“Yes, it may be useful.”  He said as he handed it to the big man, “You like explosives, don’t you?”

Fet gingerly took the case from him, but his face fell to a dramatic frown, “Yeah … but dis ain’t no dynamite.”

Dutch was already walking towards the desk, “We should look around first, there might be some clues of where he might have gone to.”

“She’s right.”  Ephraim sided with her.

The first thing that caught her eye was a manila envelope that sat on the desk, on top of all the other paperwork.

“I doubt the _Master_ would have left anything of value here.”

“Perhaps he didn’t care, Mr. Quinlan.  He left in a rush and assumed it would all be destroyed.” Abraham sided with them looking around a bit as well.

“Guys?”  Dutch called out.

“We don’t have time for this, we need to return.”

“ _GUYS_?”  Dutch called out.

“I kinda agree with Q, we should get the fuck out of here.  There might be more surprises.”  Gus sided with Quinlan.

“ ** _GUYS_**!”  Dutch screamed and everyone turned to her, “You need to take a look at this.”

She walked over to them and flipped open the folder for everyone to see the top page.

“This person was supposed to be on Regis 753 … here is her boarding pass, but she missed her flight in Berlin and she was rebooked …”

“Of what consequence is _this_?”  Quinlan was getting frustrated at Dutch’s slow release of information and he pulled the folder from her hand, flipping through it aggressively, ignoring all of the text-only documents until he got the final page, showing a copy of the person’s driver’s license and passport.

“Because it was Dawn.”  Dutch finally hit the punchline.

“Wait … she was supposed to be on that plane?”  Ephraim questioned innocently, not really understanding what the implication was quite yet.

Quinlan stared at the square face, riddled with spots.  It was plumper in this picture than it was now and he looked at the name.  That name … _that day_.  Everything shifted into place suddenly and he understood at once that it had been a sign.  _The stag, the dragonfly, the doe, his destiny … the goddess._   She had been telling him something _that day …_ at the pond and the _Master_ ’s words from an hour before replayed in his mind.

> _“Do you not understand yet that we are all just pawns in a much bigger game?”_

“There are no coincidences … “ he mumbled before turning and walking briskly towards the exit, “Miss Velders … with me … _NOW_.”

“What?”

“ ** _NOW_**.”

“Right … ok.”  He handed the folder to Ephraim, “Do not lose this.”  As he walked by, he pointed to her laptop backpack, “Bring it.”

He stated to the rest, “Stay and look around, but we are leaving _now_.”

“Wait … Where are we going?!”  Dutch trailed him quickly to the elevator.

Quinlan knew he had to return as quickly as possible, and he’d seen just the thing in the garage.  He had surveyed everything quickly after they’d parked just in case they needed a backup plan.

Fet followed them all the way down as he asked, “I can drive you?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Quinlan said as he walked right past the van and started to pull the Kawasaki Ninja ZX-10R back from the space in which it had likely been parked since the outbreak.  It looked nearly brand new and barely driven.  It was very likely it had never been taken it over the speed limit.

He was very familiar with the 2011 model and this one should be comparable, though it was obviously newer.  It was even in his preferred color as well, black.  Dutch backed up suddenly as she realized his plan.

“Ok yeah.  Nope.  I’m not getting on that thing.  Do we even have the keys?”  She asked but just as she finished the question, Quinlan revved the now started engine.

“How did you?   _Nevermind_ … Oy … Is there … Is there a **HELMET**?”

Quinlan’s look was priceless and it conveyed exactly what it needed with no words, “GET ON THE DAMN BIKE.”

“Right, OK.”

“Hey, I can seriously drive, you don’t need to take that thing.”  Fet suggested nervously.  He clearly didn’t want riding the thing.

Quinlan turned back to her and asked, “You can still track the interference, yes?”

“Yeah, I can … I don’t actually think it’s interference anym–”

“I know … It’s _her_.”

Dutch blinked at him … “Why do we need to track it … _her_?  Isn’t she just–”

“I have a **_bad_** feeling.  _Please_.”  And he motioned to the back of the bike with a head nod, instructing her to get on already.

She pulled herself onto it, behind him and timidly put her shaking hands on his sides gently.  She’d never touched the dhampir before and her hesitation made him look back towards her, “You may want to hold on tighter, Miss Velders.  If you fall off, I will not be coming back for you.”

And Quinlan hit the accelerator as she gasped a desperate scream, gripping him around the waist for her dear life.  The tire peeled out in a noxious cloud of rubber smoke and Quinlan used his planted leg to whip the bike around in a circle towards the direction of the exit.  During the fluid motion, once it was aimed in the right path, he pulled his leg back and the bike kicked into a mild wheely before they were off.

“ ** _Holy shit_** … she better be in one piece when we get back!!!”  Fet screamed out toward the bike, but it was already gone.

 

  
  



	74. 11.4 - Surrender

Dutch clutched him as tightly as humanly possible.  She had buried her head into the middle of the sword sheath on his back after he had bypassed the first road blockage of piled cars by taking the sidewalk without decelerating, missing the newspaper machine by less than an inch.  It was likely best that she was no longer watching, as that was not even the riskiest move that he had made.

_“Fuck my life.”_  Seemed to be her mantra as she repeated it each time she felt him shift the bike from side to side.  His strength, speed, balance, and sight made high speeds with a vehicle of this type possible, but she obviously doubted his ability.

Once they were out of the congestion of the city, he kicked it up to the next level of speed, thundering in and around the deserted cars spread across the interstate.

_“Oh … fuck me.”_

All in all, they made ridiculous time considering how long it had taken them to get there in the first place.  He was back to the house in around fifteen minutes.  As he rounded the final street bringing his knee fearfully close to the ground as the bike curved around the corner, he could see the lack of a front door and he could smell the blood even before the bike had come to a complete stop.

He was through the front door before Dutch had even managed to pull herself from the bike, “Oh my god … what happened here?!”  He heard her ask from outside as he stepped over the first body that was laying in the living room floor.  It was a human male and he had a familiar blade protruding from his neck.  She did like to go for the neck, didn’t she?

Quinlan didn’t bother stepping down the stairs, but jumped their entire length with hurried swiftness, hitting the bottom as his boots slid slightly on the smooth concrete surface.  He smelled more blood, however none of it smelled of her.

“What happened here?  Who the bloody hell is _that_?”  Dutch was pointing to the dead man on the floor.

“Track _her_.”  Dutch complied quickly, pulling her bag off.  It wasn’t a suggestion.

He found two more bodies within the room.  Both had been shot.  One point-blank in the face, and the other riddled with bullets.  His heart sank as he noted an empty magazine on the floor and that damn bag in the corner.  If she had left of her own will, that bag would likely have not still been there.

He listened carefully and then smelled deeply.  He did detect her blood, faintly.  He traced it back up through the living room and into the kitchen.  He bent at a small pool of it, roughly a quarter in size.  He touched the top of it slightly with the tip of his leather glove and smelling it closer to verify it was hers.

Once he bent, he spied the staff on the ground next to it, having rolled under the cabinet slightly.   _This_ had been where she took her last stand, having lost the knife in the other man’s neck, she had gone for the only weapon she could think of.

He picked it up carefully.  The top of it was now completely destroyed, not a single bulb was left intact, but the broken end was covered in shards of glass and someone else’s blood.  He realized that she had been the one who had broken it.  It had made a rather vicious makeshift weapon in a pinch.  He smelled the blood on the end of it, carefully cataloging it as the his stifled his internal rage.

_Not yet_.  A twitch escaped.

_Control, Quintus_.  Another twitch escaped.

He surveyed the various bullet holes in the walls and found the spent gun on the ground, having been partially kicked under the couch.  There was quite a bit of blood that did not belong to any of the three dead men, and Quinlan cringed at the thought of what must have happened.  His only solace was that the only blood that was hers was that tiny pool in the kitchen.

“I’m not picking up anything yet.”  She said as she tapped at the keys.

“I do not think you will … not until she is near him.”  Dutch crinkled her nose at this as he perused his memory.  The interference only started when the Master had remoted in.  And he remembered how she had touched her head in pain during the conversation below.

“ _In nexu_.”  He repeated what his _father_ had called it to Dutch as she squinted back at him.

“In _what_ now?”

_“The connection.”_

This caused something else to run across his mind suddenly, “Keep tracking.”  He commanded then visited the old man’s room to verify his secondary concern.

_Damnation_.

The _Lumen_ was gone.

 

* * *

 

She hit the floor as the injured man pushed her down with as much force as he could muster.  Her knees throbbed with the contact of the ceramic against their caps and she grunted as the pain was profound.

“This what you ordered?”  The other man chuckled as he addressed the figure that stood before them.  She refused to look up to him, she recognized his _shiny_ shoes and she wasn’t eager to see his _shiny_ face any time soon.

She looked down at the zip tie they had tightened with such force it was preventing blood flow to her hands.  Her fingers were numb and puffy already.

“Put it on the table, please.”  The _Shiny Man_ instructed of the silver book that man was thrusting towards him.

“I think we need to discuss payment again … Bitch shot me.”  The injured man gave her a quick kick to her side which sent her sprawling onto her side on the ground as he sneered, “Bitch shot me.  She killed three of my men.”

“Do **_NOT_** do that again.”  The _Shiny Man_ warned, “Should I pay you more because your men were unable to subdue such a _tiny woman_?”

The man shifted uncomfortably and growled, “You didn’t tell us that she would be a problem.”

“I most certainly _did_ tell you … **_repeatedly_**.  If you failed to listen simply because she is a woman, that fault lies on _you_ and _your dead men_.  Your payment remains the same.”

“Maybe I will just take it out of her pretty little face a bit more first then.”  The mercenary grabbed her by the ponytail and pulled her head back, revealing her overly beaten face.  A cut above her eyebrow had caused a blood trail down her face and even still dripped down from her jaw.  Her right nostril trailed blood into the corner of her thin lips and her lower left lip was cut and had already started to bruise.

“You were told _not to hurt her!_ ”  The _Shiny Man_ spat at the human as he released her hair.  “I would return to your shift downstairs before the Master arrives.  I imagine that he will want words with _you_.”

The man scoffed at the threat and turned to make his leave as his friend followed him.

The _Shiny Man_ bent and attempted to help the woman to her feet, but she ripped her arm back out of his grasp.  “Forgive me.  This was **_not_** intentional.”

Regardless of her desire to fight him off again, she was too weak from the beating and he pulled her to her feet, sitting her in the closest chair.  He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began to wipe her visage clean of blood.

“Forgive us.  This was **_not_** intentional.”  She cringed as he spat into his cloth and cleaned her face like a child.  Her head started to throb and she _knew_ it was close.

“Welcome home, _my dear._  I have been so worried for you.”  Her eyes shut tightly as she recognized the voice speak, as the _Ancient_ entered the room.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan sat on the couch, bent forward staring at the Duct Taped staff in his hands.  He stared at the patterns, running his gloved fingers over the swirls that she had drawn all over it as he waited patiently.  Every bone in his body wanted to begin the chase, but he had no idea where to even start.  The _Master_ had gone to ground again.   _Patience, Quintus._

There was less than an hour of daylight left and he knew that they had to bring her to the strigoi because of that fact.  If his theory about in nexu is correct, then they should pick up the signal–

Dutch snapped her fingers wildly towards him, “ _GOT IT.  GOT IT!!  It’s back!_ ”  She pointed to her screen and Quinlan was on his feet and standing behind her in an instant.

“Here, see … see it.  It should get much stronger too, it always did in the past.”  She pointed at the graph which showed a gradual climb in magnitude.

“How long until we have a location?”  He prodded.

“Her signal is waaaaay stronger than their’s, it’s like orders of mag–”

“ ** _HOW LONG, Dutch?_** ”  He never used her first name and this caused her to jump to attention.

“Sorry, sorry.  When it hits the right magnitude … a minute only, _maybe_ two.”

Quinlan nodded as he set the staff on the counter and stared at the screen, “When we have it, you will stay.  The others should be back shortly, tell them go to the underpass, and I will join you there.  If they do not arrive before dusk, leave _without_ them.”

Dutch nodded, “Should you go _alone though_?”

“You wish to accompany me, _again_?”  She looked at him expecting a smirk.  Quinlan from this morning would have said that statement with a smirk, however his demeanor was rigid and expressionless.

“Right.  Stay it is, then.”

 

* * *

 

She flinched as she heard the voice and all in one terrible moment, all of those memories of that cold, dark room came flooding back to her.  She had been so good at keeping them at bay, but now the floodgates were entirely open.

“ ** _We_** have been so worried for you, I mean,” as the thing that used to be Eldritch Palmer waved to his German servant.

She smiled now, slowly looking up into its eyes finally.  She had to show strength to _the one_ , even if she felt she had none left, “Well, you invited me … so …”

It chuckled now, “I did … I did … but your friends showed up without you.  It was quite rude.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t my fault.”  She scoffed.

“It’s alright.  I knew you wouldn’t be there.   _Invictus_ has always been … _predictable_ that way, I’m afraid.”

“In what way?”

The monster laughed at her question, “In no way that matters now, I’m afraid.  They have been dealt with.”

Her face fell slightly, “I doubt that.”

It shrugged, “Believe what you will.  Either way, you will never see _them_ again.”  It waved a finger to the German who waved to the strigoi at the door.

“Are we gonna play _this_ game again?”  She taunted the _Ancient_ , raising her wire tied hands towards it.  “I won the last time we played.”

“Yes.  Yes you did … but, you _cheated_.  It wasn’t really fair, so I’ve decided to make sure it’s fairer going forward.”

The strigoi that the German had waved off returned, with something large in tow.  As it rounded the corner, she could see that it was a casket of some kind and her eyes grew wide as fear rolled over her.

> 
>          “ _Start paying attention_.” The voice said.

“Do you like it?  Do you?  Our good friend Abraham made it for me.”  It laughed as it walked over to the box and opened the lid, “He made it JUST for me … but I’ve decided to share it with you.  I think you’ll find it nice and … relaxing.  There’s a serene _quietness_ in it.”

And it was rolled closer, she could see that it was mostly beat to hell, riddled with dents and scratches.

“I had to piece it back together after the blast, but I thought it might be a useful thing now.  I was kind enough to put a few breathing holes in there for you also.”

And for the first time since she arrived, she tried to dart for the door but the German was faster than she and he snatched her around the waist, lifting her up to carry her to the box.

> 
>          “ _The latches, note where they are_.” The voice said.

“NO!!  NO!!”  She screamed and whipped her body back in a desperate attempt to clock the _Shiny Man_ with her head, but he dodged.  She looked at the box now and saw that whatever latches had been there before had been broken off and replaced with two, equally spaced on the long side.  There had been two sets of latches on the end that she could see, but they had not bothered replacing that set.

“Oh please don’t take any of this personally.”

> 
>          “ _The hinge supports_.” The voice said.

“ _You said you wouldn’t hurt me again!_ ” she pleaded as she thought what he might do with the box once she was locked within.  She knew he was a _snake_ and full of lies, but now she exposed her true desperation.  The supports had been ripped clean and not reattached at all.  Now they just hung loosely inside the body of the box.

“I will _not_ … this is just to keep you … _docile_ … _disconnected_ … for _now_.”  The smile was of pure pleasure.

“ _He_ will kill you!”  She hissed a promise towards the creature as the German forced her into box, as she kicked at him furiously, “ _He_ ’s going to kill you!”

“ _He_ ’s tried, precious.  _Much_ to his own _dismay_.”

She heard one final thing before the box was closed on her and it was that dark voice.

> 
>          “ _Remember, you will never be alone_.  I am with you … **_always._** ”

And as the darkness and silence enveloped her, for the first time in all of her life, she knew she was utterly and completely alone.   _Disconnected_.

 

* * *

 

“GOT IT.”  Quinlan was already walking towards the door before she had even voiced the location.  He had seen it on the map.

“What if it moves though!?”

“Keep an eye on it.  I doubt it will.”

“Right, I’ll just –  … oh no … oh no … no no no no …”  She was in the middle of calling out to him when her voice fell completely flat and Quinlan heard her heart jump.

He turned and questioned immediately, “What is it?”

“I … I … no …”

“ ** _WHAT IS IT, Dutch!?_** ”  His frustration filled rage was finally starting to leak through and his impatience with the _Hacker_ ’s inability to be concise was about to finally crack.

“I … _don’t know_.”  Her hand went to her mouth and he could see tears were beginning to form in her eyes as he doubled back to look at her screen.

They’d seen the signal grow at a steady linear climb to an impressive magnitude and they’d conjectured that was due to proximity.  The closer the _Master_ was, the stronger the signal.  So if the Master had walked from her, there would be a gradual decline.  What they saw now was a cliff.  There was nothing gradual about it.

Quinlan’s desperation was present in his sneer towards the machine, “No.   _No_.  What does _that_ mean?   _What does that mean_?!?”

Dutch shook her head now, in disbelief of what they were seeing, almost incapable of forming the words to his distressed face, “It means … the signal stopped … completely … and immediately.  It means … _oh my god_.”

“No … “  Quinlan shook his head and stared at the cliff.  Waiting for the signal to come back.  “Is there a problem with the feed?  Is there–”

“All the other signals are fine.  All the times I’ve seen the interference, it’s always gradual, coming and going.   _Oh god_.”  She couldn’t fight the tears that flowed freely down her face.

  
  


“No … _No_.”  Quinlan’s face had lost the battle to retain all emotion from escaping.  Dutch saw his eyes well as he turned away from her and fell to his knees for the second time that day, twitching continuously and uncontrollably as he mumbled to himself, “ ** _NO_**.  He would not … no … oh gods … _not again_ … _Et dixit ei necessaria … non fecit … non … Omnia sumit a me … Ob culpam meam et mortua est.  Quid enim feci?_ ”

“I’m sorry.  I am _so sorry_ …” She offered and reached out to him with her hand but he stood quickly, stepping away from her gesture before she made contact with him.

Quinlan screamed in a menacing strigoi rattle towards no one in particular, “ ** _IS THIS WHAT YOU INTENDED?!!_** ”  Dutch’s eyes grew wide as she wondered _who the fuck_ was he screaming at.  When he received no response, he mumbled under his breath, “ _ **Coward** ,” _before he took a deep breath and began to walk towards the door, solemn and determined.

“Quinlan?  Wait!  Where are you going?  We should wait for the others.  There’s no reason now … _oh shit_ … _What do you think you are gonna do_?!?”  She called as she ran out the door after him.  His composure was back, his face entirely devoid of the previous emotion.

He straddled the bike and started the engine before gracing her with any response.

##  **_“I am going to kill them all.”_ **

  
  



	75. 11.5 - Surrender

It was completely dark for a while until her eyes adjusted enough for her to actually see inside of the box.  She assumed that in its damaged state, it was no longer entirely sealed and she felt herself being wheeled around and she felt the motion of the elevator taking her down, then more wheeling, until it stopped finally.

The box was made for someone much larger than she was and this gave her a lot of space to move around within.  Once the movement had ceased for long enough, she pushed her shoe off and heard the small knock-off swiss army knife that she was hoarding within in drop onto the metal casing.  Quintus had put it in the bag for her and she had hidden it away when she retrieved the gun from her bag before they broke into the room.  They searched her for weapons, sure.  But they didn’t take off her shoes.  What kind of useful weapon would she be able to hide in her shoe anyways?

 _Plebeians_.

She giggled to herself as she heard Quintus’ voice in her heard saying it, just as he had said it that night when he talked to her for hours … until she fell asleep to his voice.

     “ _Focus_!  He’s not coming … He left us there to die.  We are on our own now.”  She said to herself.

     “No.  You are wrong.  We’ve never been, remember.”

First thing’s first … she needed to get the fucking zip tie off of her wrists.  Her hands were so cold now.  She kicked the blade up and scrunched her body down.  She smiled as she felt it in her grasp and she pulled it up, fiddling the biggest knife in its assortment free as she started to saw the plastic apart with it.

_Fucking plebs._

* * *

  

> _**Note from Author**_ : _I know this chapter is cheesy … and I don’t care.  Hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it.  Enjoy!_  ಠ◡ಠ

Quinlan thought about many things during his brief ride, but nothing eased the ache that thundered brutally and mercilessly within his chest.  He would have wanted nothing other than to push it all from his mind, to focus solely on the task at hand, but he didn’t.

Instead, he remembered his words to Goodweather: 

>   _“Do not shy away from what motivates you.”_

_Indeed_.  And neither should he, for now he knew where his father was and he would be there in mere minutes to finish this once and for all.  Once again, his _father_ had made him even more dangerous … for now he had nothing to lose again.  And many things jolted across his memory while the air and dust whipped him in his pale face.

He remembered the last time he looked into _Ancharia_ ’s eyes, before she had closed them tightly so he could end her life quickly.

He remembered the morning that he had burst into his home to find the _Dark Haired Woman_ with her child in her arms, draining her dry.

He remembered the day that _Decimus_ had asked him to take his head, his body already riddled with the worms.

And he remembered the cackle of the Master each time … every time.  He wondered how the green-eyed woman had met her end at his _father_ ’s hands and he tried to shove the imagination of the scenarios out of his mind, but he could not, so he stopped trying.

He repeated to himself: 

>   _“Do not shy away from what motivates you.”_

Whatever had happened, it was _very quick_ and she had not been turned, but this gave him little solace.  He remembered the last time he glimpsed her, saddened and defeated on that concrete floor when he had taken her control away from her yet again and locked her inside to await her deadly fate.  She had trusted him.

It was _Tasa_ ’s voice that he heard next, calling him a “ _monster_ ”.  When she had first caught him feeding.  Her hair, her eyes, her voice … she had reminded him so much of that _Priestess_ …

Ah … that _Priestess_ … her fate had not been his father’s fault at all, had it?  That was purely on Quintus himself.  When she had thrown herself from that cliff, that was all on him.  He recalled the smell of her tears that night when everyone watched as he …

 _Dawn_ ’s voice was next, **_“YOU FUCKING ANIMAL!”_**  She had spat at him earlier, clawing for her freedom in crazed desperation.  Indeed, he was and he would show _them_ just how much of an _animal_ … of a _monster_ he really was.

He kicked the bike up to the next speed as he hit a patch of open road, trudging through his memories, _painfully … bitterly_.  He had not released his anger yet, he was purposefully holding onto it still, allowing it to fester.  He would let it simmer until he was inside.

He tried to remember _Tasa_ ’s songs now and how she had sang to him all those late nights, but it was Dawn’s voice again that ravaged his mind. 

_Her_ _voice_ … In that concrete room when he was drinking her selfishly: 

>  “I am _still_ the captain of _my_ soul.” 

_Her_ _voice_ … On the street when she embraced him with friendship: 

> “It’ll be ok.  We will figure this out.” 

_Her_ _voice_ … In the room last night when he had broken her with his cowardice: 

> “Would it be that hard … to want _intimacy_ with me?” 

_Her_ _voice_ … On that couch when they had first spoke: 

> “I _hoped_.” 

Eventually, there had been love with his _Dark Haired Woman_.  Over a long period of time, she had shown him infinite patience and kindness.  Through her friendship, she had made him wish he was more _man_ than _monster_.  And for a while, he had _almost believed_ he was.  Through her love, she made him believe that he _could_ be better and he had wanted to do so.  To be better for her, to repress his _beast_ , to change for _her_ … for **_them_**.

He had assumed this would be the strongest feeling he could _ever_ experience …

But _she_ … _she_ had done something entirely different to him and he had been unprepared for it.   _She_ had accepted him for exactly who he already was, in all of his _repulsiveness_.  She had reminded him of his _humanity_ and his capacity for _mercy_ , which had **_always been there_**.  She had shown him simple and pure _acceptance_.  And he remembered so very clearly now when she had first seen him … when she had _first_ showed her beautifully spotted face to him.  Where _Tasa_ had expressed fear, those dragonfly eyes saw _hope_. 

He repeated to himself: 

>   _“Do not shy away from what motivates you, Quintus.”_

He remembered the great swell of pride in himself as he had flooded her with his stories _that_ night.  Once he had began to share, he could not stop and she had listened with wide eyed fascination … without judgement.  He would now never get to finish that last story for her … the one where the _wind_ had helped him defeat the barbarians of the mountain cave.

 _Tasa_ had made him feel shame for his days of war, for all the travesties that he had done to _her_ and _her people_.  She had asked that he never speak of them to her and so he had not.  She never knew that side of him.

And now, more than anything, he wished that she had pushed the knife into him as he had pleaded with her to do earlier this day.  Then he wished that she had let him die in the factory that day.  He wished finally that he had let the Master kill him as Tacitus all those many years ago.

And lastly, he realized _he_ had saved _Tasa,_ but _Dawn_ had saved _him._

He stopped two blocks short of his destination, not wishing to give away what was coming.  The wind blew furiously in the direction of the building and kicked up a massive cloud of dust along with it.   _Excellent_.  It would mask his approach entirely.

 He heard her voice one last time, remembering her recitation on the couch: 

> _“Beyond this place of wrath and tears,_
> 
> _Looms but the Horror of the shade,_
> 
> _And yet the menace of the years,_
> 
> _Finds, and shall find me, **unafraid**.”_

Now … there was no _humanity_ left.

Now … there was no _mercy_ left.

Quintus drew his sword as he mumbled to himself, “I hope you can **_feel_** what is coming for you, _snake_.” 

* * *

 

Her hands were finally free and as the blood rushed back into them, she smiled.  She waited until the swelling was gone and the feeling was mostly back before starting her next task.  She began to use the little knife to cut the insulation from the seal of the door, right where she had seen the first of the two latches.

In the short time she had to survey them, it looked like at one point in time there had been four toggle latches, two on the side and two more on the end that she could see.  Knowing the Professor, there had likely been two more on the bottom part also.  Abraham usually didn’t fuck around.

They had replaced them with simple hooking metal box latches and she knew that if she didn’t have her little knife, it wouldn’t have made a difference because there was no way she would have been able to cut and dig out the seal with just her fingers.  She alternated between the tiny pair of scissors and the knife as she destroyed it in small chunks.

As she cut and tore the last of it free, she could finally seeing some light peak through the edge.  This helped her pinpoint the exact location of the hook.  She jabbed the little blade through and realized that it wouldn’t go far enough.

 _Fuck_.

It wasn’t long enough to get to the clasp to swing it open.  She laid back in frustration and breathed deeply.  What had been the fucking point of it then?  Why had the voice suggested …

 _Wait_ …

What else did it say?  The _supports._

She felt up around her head and felt the long piece of flat metal that was just dangling from the box.  Yes … this was long enough.  She felt around at its connection point and realized it was just screwed on.  She fumbled the screwdriver bit out of her miniature toolkit and began to unscrew the metal.

 _Plebs_.

 

* * *

 

The _Master_ shifted uncomfortably, turning to its underling and back towards the window again and again.

“ _Master_ , you are uneasy?  Ever since we took the woman away, you have been uneasy.  Shall I check on her?”

The _Master_ shook its head, “No, she is locked in the vault, I can see her.  It’s not that.  Something is … I am bringing more numbers up from the tunnels to patrol the streets again.”

“I can call in more human soldiers?”

“Yes.  Call them all in.”

“What is it that troubles you, my _Master_?”

“It’s the _Born_.  Something is … off about his–”

It’s words were cut brutally short by the sudden pops of gunfire below.

“What is that?!”  The German ran to the window to try and look below.  This building was much smaller than the last but he could still see nothing.

 ** _“THE BORN.”_**  It hissed and moved towards the door to make an exit.

“He is _here_ , my _Master_?!  How is that possible?   _How could he have found this place?!_ ” The German’s eyes were wide with concern.

“It matters not … I will have the woman brought to the elevator.  We leave now.”  The _Master_ despised underestimating that _bastard child_ , and it became silent for a moment, attempting to instruct the guarding strigoi to roll her back when it came back to the forefront sharply.

“ ** _FIND THE WOMAN!_** ” it screamed to ALL of its minions, both verbally as well as mentally, “ ** _FIND HER BEFORE HE DOES!_** ” 


	76. 11.6 - Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer** : There is a particularly brutal scene in this chapter. I even creeped myself out by writing it.
> 
> Also, I know I need to use more than just Supernatural GIFs, but damn, Dean has the best faces.

He made his way through the loading dock first.  This building was half the size of the last, but it was still large.  He guessed at least twenty stories or so.  He was surprised to find so many human guards on hand, but given Abraham’s penchant for silver bombs, he understood why the _Master_ was wishing to cover all of his bases.

There were five guards outside, and he could hear at least ten directly within, one of which was a strigoi.  The humans were all well armed and trained.  How he despised mercenaries.  And just as he made his quick motion towards them, the wind kicked up a wicked flurry of dust again.

 _Perfect_.

He sheathed his sword once they were dispatched and then looked over the first body and pulled an automatic M16 from his grip.  It was a good weapon so he threw it over his shoulder before searching for extra ammunition and shoving what he found into his pockets.  He would want to conserve as much of his own ammunition as possible for now.  He repeated the same action on the second body, confiscating the ammunition and holding the second M16 in his grip for immediate use.  He looked at the third body and thought it better to not carry a third gun, but _fuck it_ … he grabbed the extra magazines as well, greedily shoving them into his already overflowing pockets.

He stood next to the door and peered within.  It would only be a matter of moments until they noticed their comrades were no longer responding to the comms that dangled loosely from their lifeless ears.

_Quickly, Quintus._

He broke the first one’s neck before the others noticed, and he managed to kick the second one with enough force that he flew forward and smashed into the third in front of him.  He heard them break as they collided.  However, there were seven more to go and he was unable to act stealthily any longer as the gunfire began to pop.

The fourth he used as a shield, until he had dispatched the two that were closest with his new weapon.  The remaining four ran and ducked behind the far wall and Quinlan followed suit and retreated behind the doorway, standing to the side of it.

He wondered what they would do next, when the he heard the human pull the pin and attempt to chuck the object through the opening towards him.  This caused him to grin as he ran across the doorway to the other side of it, hitting the object like a baseball with the butt of his newly acquired weapon, perfectly back to their side.

“OH FUC–” was the last thing he heard one of them scream as their own explosive detonated at their feet.  Some of them were still alive as he walked past, a problem that he remedied with a bullet to each of their heads while taking a fresh magazine to replace his half spent one on the way.

As he stepped over the last man, he turned back to him and raising the barrel to his head before picking up two familiar scents.

_Yes … **You**._

The man’s blood had been the one he had catalogued back in the living room, and he could still smell _her_ on him … on his hands and splattered on his clothes.  The fact that he had struck her with enough force to cause a splatter only further  fueled the motivation for his next actions.

The man whimpered as he grasp at the largest hole which the shrapnel had torn out of his gut.  Quinlan knew he would be dead in a matter of minutes from _this_ wound, but he grabbed him by his neck, bringing him to his feet and directly eye level.  He could smell the fear as he tried to push the dhampir away with his weakening arms.

“ _You_.”  He cocked his head to the right as he twitched. “ _You are the one who took **her**?_ ” He asked and the man started to shake his head as Quinlan punched him savagely in his open gut.  The sound the man made was somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.   _Good_.  He held onto his neck tightly with his left hand, not allowing him to fall even as his legs buckled completely from the onslaught of pain.

“ _You … hit … **her**?_ ”  He twitched and blinked his third eyelid.  “ _You should not have._ ”  He pushed his right thumb into the open hole of the man’s left shoulder and he made that noise again.   _Good_.  This time, it was followed by a gurgle as the man coughed up blood from his punctured lung desperately trying to breath through the tightening grip on his throat.

_“Please.  He has … our families … he will kil–”_

_“Foolish. Your families are already dead.  And even if they are not currently, I **promise** they will be soon.”_  He grinned madly at the man as it was a hollow threat, but he enjoyed the panicked look in his eyes as he said it.

Quinlan took a deep smell of her blood again before committing an atrocity to which he would _never mention to anyone_.  He pushed his hand inside of the man’s open gut as he continued to stare into his panicked eyes.  The hole was not yet big enough for his entire fist but he quickly remedied that.  As he began to pull things out one at a time … _slowly_ , the man _screamed_ and _writhed_ and _gurgled_ in an amount of pain that he could only imagine was unfathomable.

“ _You_ … “ he whispered to him with a rattle, “ _should not have touched **her**._ ”

He could hear the others coming from above and below, _humans_ and _monsters_ and he should already be moving, but he continued to stare at the man, who was now no longer able to do anything other than _twitch_.  He held him at eye level and watched … until his eyes went blank.

Quinlan wiped his glove clean on the man’s clothes before releasing the body and letting it crumple to the ground with a thud.  Then he continued on his savage path.

There is no _humanity_ left here …

          There is no _mercy_.

There is only _pain_ …

          and **_rage_**.

 

* * *

 

She heard the gunfire first and then saw the red circles briefly before she jabbed the thing right in the eye with the sharpest part of the hinge support.  She didn’t get it in far enough, but the beast went down on all fours as it tried to pull the thing from its eye.  She then jumped on top and stabbed it repeatedly in the other eye with the biggest blade of her tiny knife until it stopped moving.

She flicked the worms from her hands quickly before turning around to survey her surroundings and determined she was in a vault of some type.  The sign on the side of the wall said “Jenkins Mutual and Trust”.

She stared at the strange mechanism wondering how to open the door from the inside.

> 
>     _“Spin the pin on the left side until it locks, then grab the right handle and push it up, then pull as hard as you can. **He’s on his way.** ”_
>         

“ _The Shiny Man?_  Already?”  She asked but received no response, as she fumbled with the vault door until it gave way and she pulled on it furiously.  It was heavy but she was pumped full of glorious adrenaline

> 
>     _“You need a better weapon.  Stop by the kitchen on your way out.  There is a butcher knife in the third drawer from the bottom, hidden behind the straws.  Don’t delay, you need to get to the stairwell.”_
>         

Once the knife was secured her next instruction was to leave the bank.  She ran down the hallway until she came to the all glass entrance and exited, looking both directions.  She spied the elevators and attempted to run for them until she was instructed elsewhere.

> 
>     _“They are coming for you.  Go right.  In the bathroom.  Keep quiet and buy time until **he** gets here.”_
>         

She complied and hid on the other side of the door, waiting.  Her heart raced crazily and she breathed in and out carefully.  She heard the elevators open and movement scurry past.

> 
>     _“They are searching each room, you cannot stay here … they will see you flee, but you have to run.  To the stairwell … HURRY. **He** ’s almost there.”_
>         

She pushed out the door and sure enough, the two strigoi sentries waiting at the entrance to the bank saw her and they immediately began their pursuit.  She suddenly regretted not training with Gus as her heart thundered … Quintus hadn’t made her do much _warming up_.  She giggled at an inappropriate thought that raced across her mind, but dismissed it.  It was NOT helping her current situation.

_**Fucking Cardio …** _

> 
>     _“To the stairwell, child!”_
>         

The voice instructed her in the direction of the rapid gunfire that had started up yet again and she hesitated, “That doesn’t sound like the right way to go.  There’s only two .. I can take them!”

> 
>     _“You won’t need to … RUN NOW!!!”_
>         

They were following as she pushed the stairwell door open frantically coming face to face with the large gun on the other side and she swung the blade up with all of her might and towards the face of the blue-eyed man that wielded it.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan had stopped at the twelfth floor as he heard targets running towards the stairwell door and he stepped to the side.  One human and two strigoi.  He didn’t want to waste anymore bullets as he was down to the last acquired magazine and gun.  He still had his uzis fully stocked though but he could just divert the human over the railing and down the middle of the open area of the stairs.

His mind swam with _rage_ and _hate_ and he allowed nothing else to pervert his current goal.  Cold, callous, and calculating, he had paid no attention to his useless senses right now, in particular his sense of smell.  If he had, he would have realized who was about to burst through the door and into his presence.

As it flew open and he stepped out to grab the clumsy human to toss it over, he first saw the flash of the ponytail as it swung around, and those eyes spun to face him.  His instincts kicked in and he caught the little hand that furiously swung the blade up towards his face.  It was only then that her smell hit him.  His mouth dropped agape for only a split second before he heard …

“ _ **Quinlan**?!  How did–_ ”

He was sure he had made some kind of noise but he only remembered for certain the feeling that had overwhelmed him completely and utterly.  For one moment, he felt as if his heart had stopped beating entirely before he reacted impulsively, reaching out and grabbing the woman’s head between both of his palms, pulling her to him forcefully, and placing his lips to her forehead.  The gesture was brief and he followed it by bringing his forehead down and pressing it against hers, closing his eyes tightly as he spoke quietly.

  
  


####  _[“O dii.  Inveni te.  Vos estis reversi ad me.  Pulchra poeta meo.  Donate mihi.  Donate crudelitatis meae.”](https://translate.google.com/?biw=1515&bih=818&bav=on.2,or.r_cp.&bvm=bv.144224172,d.cGc&sns=1&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#la/en/O%20dii.%20%20Inveni%20te.%20%20Vos%20estis%20reversi%20ad%20me.%20%20Pulchra%20poeta%20meo.%20%20Donate%20mihi.%20%20Donate%20crudelitatis%20meae.)_

“English plea–”

His instincts retriggered, pushing her behind him in one fluid moment as he brought his gun up to dispatch the two strigoi who were in pursuit of her, and were now less than five feet from them.

His heart raced faster than hers even though she panted wildly now.  He turned back to her and she was surveying both directions on the stairs, already trying to decide which direction to go.  But all he could do was stand completely still, crippled from the shock and fighting every urge in his body to embrace her.

She attempted to walk up the stairs before Quinlan had fully regained control of his mind.  He reached for her arm, pulling her back towards him as he grabbed her chin and surveyed her newly beaten face.

“ _Who did this to you?!_ ”  He demanded.

She pulled out of his grasp by jerking back slightly and he could see the shame it caused her, “Just some asshole … trust me, I made him regret it.”  And there it was, that wicked little smile that he had thought he would never see again.  This time, she paired it with a slight jabbing motion with her impressively large knife into thin air.

At the surfacing of that smile, he was no longer able to preventing himself from embracing her fully now with a strength and vigor that left her fighting for air, “I am _sorry_.  I am _so sorry_.  I did not mean for this–”

“Quinlan!” she whispered harshly while she tapped him violently on the arm, struggling for air, “… can’t breath .. ”

He released her immediately from his monstrous grip and spun her around, surveying her body in its entirety, “Are you injured?  Are you alright?  We thought you were dead.”

“Why would you think–”  She squinted at him.

“It does not matter now … _None of it._ ”  He thought about explaining the signal to her, but considered there would be more time later.  He could hear the other strigoi on this floor ambling their direction.  There were a great number of them, he could tell.  He knew they were also in pursuit of her.

“Where did you come from?  How did you escape?”  He could tell she was nervous about dallying at this location, but they had _some_ time.  The stairwell door was shut and he could hear them down the final hallway.  He would wait for them to line themselves up a bit more.

“They put me in Abe’s _box_ … _Plebs_.”  That glorious smile again and Quinlan had to force himself to restrain from embracing her yet again.  They were nearly to the door and he pulled her back as he opened it and began to fire down the long hallway, cutting nearly all of the strigoi in half.  The gun was out and he chucked it to the ground and drew his sword next.

“One moment, please.”  He said so nonchalantly that it sent a shiver down his spine as he cut the rest of the strigoi in the hallway down in seconds.  The ones on the very end had even tried to run at the last moment.

“We must go now,” as he grabbed her hand pulling her downstairs before she protested greatly.

“What?!  GO?!  Why would we go?!  The _Master_ is UP THERE!”  And she pointed up the stairwell.

Quinlan blinked as she continued, “She said to go down, but I think we should go up.  Where is everyone else?  Wait … how did you find me?”

He cocked his head to the right, “ _She_?   _Who_ said to go down?”

“The voice … she said to run.  But you’re here now.   _Where is everyone else_?!”

“ _What **voice**_?!” Quinlan stammered, “From the _gym_?!  It has been helping you as well?”

Her mouth opened slightly, “No no no… not _that_ one … wait … what do you mean ** _as well_**?!”

He gawked at her, “ _How many voices are there?_ ”

“Less than there used to be …” she shook her head before continuing, “It doesn’t matter right now … let’s go!”

Quinlan heard the propellers kick in eight floors up and he gripped his sword tightly unsure of exactly how to proceed.  Every single bone in his body fought with every other bone.  Every emotion was in tortuous conflict with even itself.

The _Master_ was on the roof … they had the box again … he needed to find the _Lumen_ … Yet he knew he needed to get her some place safe and he would not be leaving her anywhere alone … _ever again_.  He would not make that mistake again.

He twitched violently as his internal conflict raged within and she witnessed the hesitation as he stared down to his sword handle.  She placed her hand on his causing him to look up directly into her eyes and he stared at them until he finally allowed his gaze to float down to her lips.  Then she spoke softly to him in the manner to which he would always be forced to surrender.

“There is no **_choice_** to make, Quinlan.  We end this.  We end this _now_.”

  
  



	77. 11.7 - Surrender

He _could_ make his way through the minions below, but their numbers were swelling and getting fed from even farther underground.  It would be easy for him to make his way out alone, but not with her in tow.  He _could_ take her through the building on another floor and possibly find an exit down, but he would have to take her by force … _again_.  No, absolutely not.   _Enough_.

Quinlan nodded, “Very well.  We must hurry then.”  He picked her up and proceeded up the stairs as fast as he could.  She wasn’t entirely prepared for the acceleration that followed and grabbed onto him tightly as he ran, burying her head into his neck.  He knew there was no way she would make it up the remaining eight floors in time, as he heard the propellor picking up speed above.

“Where is the box?” he asked as he set her back down to her feet on the other side of the exit to the roof.

“Twelfth floor, in the vault … _Jenkins Mutual and Trust_.”  He nodded as he cracked the door open slightly and a barrage of dust blew savagely through the slit.  He shut it quickly as she tried to shield her eyes from the onslaught.   _Good_.  It would give him cover again and this sudden storm was likely preventing the aircraft from leaving; there is no way they could take off with zero visibility and wind resistant to this level.  He grinned.

He could hear the minions below funneling into the stairwell from the twelfth floor door that they had just departed as well as from below.  They were young and it would take them a while to get up here, not long enough though.  He could not leave her here.

He pulled one of his guns from their under arm holsters and she stared at it.

“I don’t suppose you have something smaller I can use?”

He immediately regretted not taking one of the handguns from the humans downstairs and he shook his head, but instead provided her with the silver dagger that he usually kept hidden.  She was now double wielding the butcher knife and his smaller blade.

“Probably for the best, I’m not very good with guns anyways.”

He looked at her, attempting to be stern, “Then that is something I shall have to remedy after this.”

She seemed to like the thought of that statement and she smiled wide enough to show her perfect teeth which in turn caused Quinlan to smile back.

“Yes?” He asked rhetorically, simply appreciating and wanting more validation from his statement.  She nodded eagerly.   _Good_.

“Once we are through, I will break the handle to prevent them from following us through … and you will find immediate cover.  Yes?”

She nodded and he could hear her heart racing as he grabbed the handle.  He afforded her one more smile and a nod before he opened the door and the dust-filled wind assaulted them fiercely.

She wasn’t sure how to take cover when she couldn’t see a goddamn thing, but he had pulled her around the other side of the stairwell, pushing her down to a crouching position as he whispered softly into her ear, “Here.”

She could barely see his face as he pressed his forehead against hers briefly but she did see the faintest of smiles again before he drew his sword with his free hand.  He was gone into the flurry of dense dust.

It was less than five seconds before the pop of gunfire began to rattle on the other side of the stair exit.

 

* * *

 

“What do you mean he _just left_?”  Abraham wasn’t furious at the Hacker, but at the entire situation itself.

“He left … he said for us to go to the safehouse and wait for him.”  She was clearly upset and she stood at the door waiting for them to follow her back out, “We need to go before it’s dark, he said.”

“Where did he go?!”  Fet challenged, “What da fuck happened here?!” He spun around and looked at the trashed house.

“The Lumen!”  The thought suddenly graced his mind and the old man tried to make a beeline for the stairs, when the _Hacker_ ’s words stopped him.

“They took it, Professor.  I’m sorry.”

“Where did he go?”  Gus’ turn, “Where is Dawn?”

“She’s … gone … _she’s gone_ … “  Dutch stammered, “He went … “

“Miss Velders!” Abraham commanded.

“ ** _She’s dead._**  She was gone when we got here … they _killed_ her … he went to … _kill them all_ … “  The tears that she had finally subdued had returned.

Fet reached out and embraced her fully, holding her wet face against his big chest, “Ah no.”  He said as the tears welled up in his own eyes, “Ah no … “

“Do you know where he went?”  Ephraim stared coldly at her and she nodded from behind the big man’s arms.

“ ** _Where, Miss Velders?_** ”  Abraham commanded again.

 

* * *

 

> 
>     “Are you ready?” It … _she_ … said.

Dawn nodded.

> 
>     “There are two, coming from the right.  They can see in the dust better than you.”

She breathed deeply and the dust was suffocating.

> 
>     “Close the gap, faster than they will expect.”

Quintus’ training sounded in her head, “You can prevent the stinger from erupting by driving a blade that is large enough up here” as he hand touched his middle finger to the middle of her jaw from underneath, “but you must tip it at a slight angle, 15 or 20 degrees back, during penetration, in order to wedge it properly against the Maxilla, Infraorbital foramen, as well as even the Nasal bone if the blade is long enough.”

The butcher knife was plenty long enough and the first strigoi was wedged shut as she sprung up from her crouch.  It grabbed at the blade, trying to pull out it out by the handle wildy.  This gave her time to focus on its companion.

Quintus’ voice: “The stinger is most susceptible to strike across the center of the bottom after it has split apart.  Cutting across the bottom will sever the nerve that it uses to pinch and lock onto its prey.  If you cannot cut it off fully, slice it there.”  

 

> This had been a particular memorable lesson, as he had had a hard time explaining exactly where he meant and in the end, she asked him to just show her on his.
> 
> He had been quite embarrassed and refused until she reminded him that she HAD seen it _before_ , up close and personal.  He shed his reluctance eventually, following up surrender with something that he had hoped might make him seem more human, “It is smaller than a normal stinger, I assure you.”
> 
> To which she had followed up, quite childishly with, _“[That’s what she said.](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=that%27s%20what%20she%20said)”_  This only fueled his embarrassment further, cocking his head to the right and questioned it immediately.
> 
> “She?  Did Dutch say this?  She knows nothing about my … _stinger_.  Did the Doctor tell her this?”  The look on his face had been a combination of being horrified and annoyed.  It was one of the few times he was honestly confused and she relished in it momentarily
> 
> “No no no, _nevermind_.  It’s just a _joke_.”  She had tried to halt his torment eventually.
> 
> “Oh …” he had shifted uncomfortably, “Well … I do not think it funny.  She should mind her own business.”
> 
> It had annoyed him that she refused to explain it further and this was one of the few days that she had been a particularly bad student, all things considering.
> 
>  
>     
>     
>     **_“PAY ATTENTION!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?  THEY AREN’T DEAD YET!”_  **
>     

_Oh shit, yeah, whoops._  She popped back to reality and brought the dagger around, missing the strigoi with the damaged stinger as it sidestepped.   _Shit_.  She _missed_ that chance.

It lunged at her in an attempt to tackle her to the ground, which she countered with her old training, helping it find the ground face first with Aikido.  She mounted it on the back and stabbed down onto its head with both hands, driving the dagger deep.  She was trying to yank it back out when the other one grabbed her under the arms.

It had given up trying to remove the butcher knife and now it gripped firmly, beginning to pull her backwards off its dead companion, as her heels dragged on the ground, she kicked wildly.   _Shit_.  She needed to get to her feet and she pulled them up close to her and tried to stand, but it was still dragging.

_Fuck_.  She knew she couldn’t head butt it as she was still too low, but she could head butt the handle of the blade that protruded down from its jaw and so she did.  The force of her blow ripped the blade back out of the strigoi’s facial bones, sharding and breaking them as it went.

It wouldn’t kill the thing and she had freed its stinger now, but it stumbled back, releasing her and she spun after planting her feet firmly and grabbed the handle pulling it the rest of the way through before she embedded it into the side of its temple.

> 
>      “ ** _What the hell were you smiling about!  They almost had you!_** ”  The voice screamed at her.

This was the first time she’d ever heard the voice angry in the least bit.  She shrugged in response but she crouched back down, ducking and holding her head as the most wicked noise she could imagine sounded and she felt the entire building shaking and rumbling under her.

**_Oh my god … what did he just do?_ **

 

* * *

 

Retreat would no longer be a concern.  Quinlan grinned to himself as he bent down and grabbed the landing skid with both hands, dead lifting it up and over him using a ‘clean and jerk’ motion, as he pushed the entire thing over, causing it to topple and the blades to viciously chop and bite into the roof of the building.

The wind finally gave some reprieve and he was able to see to the stairwell now.  He had heard the two scuffle towards her and it had taken all of his control to allow her to take them herself.  She was a good student, after all.  He had waited to topple the vehicle until he was sure she had though.  If not, he would have needed to double back.

He could see the ten strigoi that he had shot on his way to the chopper clearly now and were scattered around the roof haphazardly.  He waited briefly until the blades halted their tumultuous torment into the roof before he jumped onto the side, which was now facing skyward.  The pilot had pulled a gun to shoot through the glass at him, and with his left hand he ripped the door off, flinging it away from the building entirely like a massive Frisbee, while he knocked the gun away and grabbed the man by the clothing on his chest with his right.  Ripping him from his seat as the seat belts buckled and snapped under his strength, he flung him off the roof much the same way he had the door.  The man screamed as he fell.

Quinlan spied the Lapdog in the passenger seat and quickly pulled his uzi, spraying the cockpit with it as the older strigoi fled into the back of the vehicle, hissing.   _Coward_.

He moved over to the next set of doors and breathed deeply before ripping them free.   _Empty.  Where the hell …_

He dodged the bullet that hoped to connected between his eyes, turning to the tail of the chopper as he did so in time to see the German pointing the gun squarely at his face and seeing the _Master_ flee to the underside of the overturned bird, out of his view.  He moved quickly and grabbed the gun from the strigoi with the plans to tear his head off when the _Master_ returned from the underside and knocked Quinlan from his feet with a quick uppercut, freeing its precious servant from his impending wrath.

He flew at least twenty feet up and across before sliding across the roof along his back and coming to rest up against one of his previous victims.  That was _careless_ , he should have just shot him.  He picked himself up quickly and stared at the two monsters still standing on the tail end of the vehicle as they jumped down in front of it.

He knew the _Master_ would try to flee, like always, and most likely down the side of the building so he moved quickly to cut off his father’s quickest route of escape, placing himself between the _Ancient_ and the closest side of the building.

The German ran at him as a distraction and he backhanded him away with his left arm like the gnat he was, while he drew his sword with his right.  The motion was fluid and each action played well into the momentum of the other.  The _Master_ was already turning and scurrying towards the next closest side and Quinlan speared his sword with all of his might directly towards the location that he estimated the _Ancient_ would traverse.  His _father_ generally lacked all creativity and moved in a straight line.

This was a risk, because if he had been wrong, his blade would have shot over the edge and he might not have been able to recover it, but this was the only play he currently had as he knew shooting the Master would have no short term effects on stopping his retreat.  It would run away to lick its wounds, as always.

The blade hit its target perfectly and penetrated through the _Ancient_ ’s spine at the very base of the back of his neck, shooting out the front.  The immense force of the throw coupled with the handle hitting the bone, drove the Ancient face forward down in an arc and onto its knees as the blade embedded deeply into the roofing material below him.

The _Master_ was quick to pull it out of the roof and stand back up, but this brief moment had afforded Quintus more than enough time to close the distance between them, as he grabbed both the handle in his left hand and the blade in his right, kicking the underside of the knee of the _Master_ and forcing it to buckle before him.

It gurgled madly, unable to erupt its stinger nor speak, now on its knees before him.  The fight was over and all Quinlan had to do was torque the blade in a spin and the head would roll.  This time, there would be no retreat for that _red worm_.  He smiled as he began the motion but stopped as soon as the wind hit him and he smelled it …

####  _**Her blood.** _

   



	78. Interlude 8 - She Who Hears

## She Who Hears

  


> _Beyond the sky they dream._
> 
> _To those that dream_
> 
> _Above the stars_
> 
> _Wherever they are_
> 
> _Skalonyaday_
> 
> _Beyond the sky they dream._

_April 20, 1779, near Jigonhsasee Family Longhouse on Lake Onondaga_

She ran desperately through the field of dead grass, the rocks cutting deeply into her bare feet with almost every step.  But this did _not_ slow her.  She ran as fast as she could push herself and when she thought she could run no faster, she did.  And yet, they still pursued.

She could no longer hear the screams of her family from their longhouse and she was unsure if that was because they no longer screamed or if she had gotten too far.  She desperately hoped for the latter.  She had wanted to stay and fight, but there was no victory possible and her ancestor had bade her **_fiercely_** to run.

> 
>     “Do not stop … you must make it to the waters of the lake,”  Deganawida pleaded with her even now, “Run, _Hathų_.   _ **Please**_.‘”

Her heart raced so furiously in her chest as she regretted not having run more in the past.  She was more of a walker than a runner and now that poor choice was biting at her lungs painfully.  She had gone on a walk this morning even, after her dreams had been so troubling from the night before.

She had woke earlier than the others and walked along the shore of the lake as she often did.  The crystal waters were calmer than any and it was usually then that she would speak to her ancestor, _The Great Peacemaker_.  This was where his voice had always been the strongest in her mind.  She had dreamed his dream … his _prophecy_.  She shared his gifts, although not everyone born of his line did.  There had been ten strong, healthy, and beautiful generations before [the great sickness](http://mirandarachel.pbworks.com/w/page/36130327/Iroquois%20Indians%20Smallpox%20Epidemic) swept her people in her grandmother’s childhood.  And now her, her mother, and her grandmother were all that were left of the [Jigonhsasee](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jigonhsasee) children.

_The Great Spirit_ was trying to tell _her_ something with the dream.  Dreams were how it spoke to them.  And it had done so since the four moon cycles after the Midwinter Dream Festival came to pass this year.  It greatly concerned her because she was the best [Dreamguessers](http://www.webwinds.com/yupanqui/iroquoisdreams2.htm) of the entire tribe.  Her interpretation skills were matched by none other, yet this dream in particular had confused even her.  It was not _her_ dream, it was Deganawida’s dream.  Filled with serpents and omens of the future.  It was broken and disjointed.  Everything was always in different orders.

> 
>     “Yes, as it always was with me, child.”  He had assured her.

“What does it mean?”

> 
>     “I do not know.  Sometimes I feel it is a _promise_.  Other times I feel it is a _warning_.”

She shook her head, “No.  I do not think it is either … I think it is … a _path_.  I think it a _choice_.”

> 
>     “A choice for whom, my child?”

She was unsure.  Everything was jumbled each time.  She began to speak, “The Black Serpent had blue eyes this time and the White had gree–” when she heard the first screams and as she turned back toward the direction of her home and saw the smoke.

He tried to demand that she stay at the water’s edge, but he knew that she did not respond well to any commands.  She did not as she ran home to find the longhouse already engulfed in flames, her family locked within its confines.  As she broke through the long grass, in view of it, the twenty or so men in their European garb turned and spied her.

> 
>     “Run!  Back to the water’s edge!  I am sending him!”

“NO.  My family … I will not leave them!”  She stood prepared to fight the men but the voice pleaded.

> 
>     “They are already lost, my child.  You are my last.  Run.   ** _PLEASE_**!  He is coming.”

And she ran, with all of her might, in all of the new silence; she ran and they pursued.  As the first glints of sunlight hit her face as it reflected off of the water, she almost smiled before the bullet ravaged her left shoulder, throwing her forward over the last of the tall grass and onto the muddy shore of the lake.

She could hear them laughing behind her as she desperately tried to crawl her way to the edge of the water.  She was so very close and she had nearly reached it when she felt the boot on her back, halting any further progress.  She heard them speaking their language.  They were trying to decide something.

She heard them lift their weapon and she considered closing her eyes but instead she looked out across the still water and smiled through the pain that ripped into her back as she saw the top of his golden hair penetrate the surface of the water, sending ripples across it.

It had been many years since she had seen him first _and_ last, on this very shore, in this very spot.  When she had drown in these very still waters chasing that elusive green dragonfly from her dreams across _this_ shore.  When she had been no more than five cycles of seasons old and he had pulled her tiny child body from its coldness, giving her breath again.  His green eyes revealed over the surface of the water as he ascended, she remembered them so clearly and she smiled.

_Her Thunder.  
_

_[Hinon](http://www.native-languages.org/morelegends/hinon.htm)._

 

* * *

 

It had taken him too long to get here. _Two Rivers_ had been frantic when he had found him walking the corridors.  He had left the staff behind before his stroll around the capital.  There was no time to retrieve it though it afforded him quicker travel.  He had been forced to take the gate directly.  It was always slow to pull him through.

When he arrived, she had already been shot.  As he rose through the water he was completely dry, walking up the bank of the lake.  The five men who had chased her now stood above her, with their weapon drawn and pointed towards the back of her head.  They paused at his sudden appearance and turned towards him.  He had not had time to prepare himself for battle.  He had brought neither weapons nor armor.

_It mattered not_. These were just _men_ , after all.

The one with his weapon drawn, brought it up in his direction as the others followed suit, pulling their pistols from their belts and pointing them at him, but none of their bullets connected with their intended target as he was simply not there anymore.  He was already standing in front of the man whose boot still pushed against the delicate small of her back.  He snapped his neck so furiously that it now faced backwards and the other men gasp words of fear.

“Thomas!”  One of the men screamed.  He smiled as he wasn’t sure which man to kill next, but that one would do nicely and his neck was next.  All things considered, the deaths were more humane than they likely deserved.  Michael could smell their souls from here, and he knew he would not be seeing them again where they were going next.

The third met the exact same fate as the first two and the fourth dropped to his knees in front of the his silver robe, putting his hands together, “ _Please Lord, I beg–_ ”

Michael laughed, “Oh, trust me … **_No one is listening._** ”  That snap had been slower than the first three.  He had paid too much attention to this man and as the bullet penetrated through his bicep from behind, he spun towards his assailant.

“You little bastard.”  He chuckled as he grabbed the spent pistol from the man’s hand and threw it across into the grass.  This man, the fifth man, he looked deep into his eyes as he drew the man’s sword from his own belt, “ ** _You_** … you are a _nasty one_ , aren’t you?”

He could see into the man’s soul, “Do me a favor …”  He smiled as he took a step back to allow enough room for a clean swing of his blade, “Give my **_brother_** my regards.”   He swung it clean and he swung it well, as he always did, and the man’s head rolled across the shore.  He tossed the blade down into the mud before turning his attention back to the bleeding girl.

He pulled her around and into his arms as he crouched on the ground, surveying her wound as she bled onto his robe.  There was no exit wound which meant he would need to remove the bullet, but not here and he heard men shouting from afar.

She looked into his eyes as she smiled again, reaching up and touching the scar that ran down the left side of his face, just as she had done when he had saved her as a child so many years ago.  She was much older now, but she still showed him no fear as she touched it gently speaking in her native language before succumbing to unconsciousness.

“I knew you would come, _My Thunder._ ”


	79. 12.1 - Sacrifice

“ ** _DO NOT._** ”  The _German_ warned from across the rooftop and Quinlan knew before he turned that the _Lapdog_ was not alone.

Without releasing his grip on either end of the sword which still pierced through his _father_ ’s neck, he turned his head only slightly to allow his eyes to survey the situation that was now unfolding.  If he moved too much, the _Master_ would likely try and use anything to its advantage.

The minion stood near the far edge of the roof with the back of the _Poet_ ’s neck gripped tightly in his only hand.  At least the _Lapdog_ was far from unscathed, as the butcher knife was entirely hilted into his side and still remained lodged there.  A particularly deep cut was visible down the right side of his face, and from the searing on its edges, it was likely done with the silver dagger though he could see it nowhere in sight.

If the _Lapdog_ had been a younger strigoi, Quinlan had no doubts that she would have come out ahead of whatever confrontation had transpired.  But the _Lapdog_ was older, which meant he was much stronger and faster than her, even with only a single appendage.

Quinlan glared but offered no movement, surrender, nor words.  And after an agonizing moment of complete silence, it was the _Poet_ that spoke first.

“You seriously overestimate my import–” she tried to bait him and he pulled her neck back firmly as he squeezed tightly causing her to grimace.

“He has not yet finished it … _has he_?”  He purred into her ear as he smiled at Quinlan.

“You will not kill her … you need–”  Quinlan started to offer a retort, but was rudely interrupted.

“I need _nothing_ from this _thing_ ,” he stated as he squeezed his grip tighter expecting her to whimper, but she did not, “Without my _Master_ , she serves no purpose to **_me_**.”

Quinlan tensed, “I assure you, I can kill _you both_.”

“ ** _Yes_**.  Of that, I have **_no_** doubts.  But … not before I snap this _fragile_ little neck.”

“Yet, your _Master_ will die either way.  Why not escape with your life while I allow it?”

“I have no purpose without **_him_**.”

Quinlan watched as the circles engulfed the minion’s eyes and his _father_ ’s voice escaped out of the _Lapdog_ next, “You may think you can lie to him, _Invictus_ , but we both know the tru–”

No.  He would control this conversation and Quinlan torqued the blade ever so slightly, just enough to silence the beast for a moment as it cut viciously into its neck and the red circles retreated from the minion’s mind entirely.

“ ** _DO NOT._** ”  Quinlan warned by repeating the same words to it as the _Lapdog_ had lobbed at him mere moments before.

Dawn laughed as the strigoi pulled her back towards him tightly, “ _This_ is your play?  You don’t get it … _This_ is _all_ that matters to him …  There is _no bargaining_ … there isn’t a **_choice_**.”  She repeated the same words that she had spoken to him in the stairwell.  He understood what she was telling _him_ to do.  He understood what she was telling _them_ he would do.  She thought she knew.  She was completely certain of it.  He had already chosen _this_ over her life before, hadn’t he?

“Little one … _his hesitation belies that there **is** a choice_.”  She smiled at this and Quinlan met her eyes only briefly as she closed them tightly, shielding him from any doubt they might invoke.  He could see her body tense as she prepared herself for the only outcome that she had assumed would occur next.  The only outcome that she was certain Quinlan was capable of performing.  She prepared herself for his revenge.

And so many things ebbed and flowed and _clawed_ their way at his mind and at his heart, but there really was no hesitation at all … because she was entirely right and he knew it.

From the first moment he smelled her blood …

There _really_ was _never a choice_ to make …

 

* * *

 

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

> 
>     “This will _not_ end as you assume.   _Open your eyes_!”

And just as the voice had ended her instruction, Dawn heard the shot and felt the wind of the bullet brush across her face as it connected with the shoulder of the _Shiny Man_ behind her.  As she opened her eyes, she felt the pressure of his grip release as he stumbled backwards with the force of the impact.

Quinlan had released the front of the blade and had drawn one of his guns.  He attempted to turn back to grab it again, but the _Master_ had already pulled itself free and was now running to the edge of the building in total retreat as he pulled his uzi back around, spraying the fleeing monster with bullets as it fled over and down the building.

Dawn lunged forward to free herself, however she didn’t have much of a plan after the initial movement and he was quick to grab her hair, ripping her back.  She used the momentum to spin as she grabbed the handle of the knife still wedged in his rib cage, jerking it up sharply with as much force as she could manage.  This caused him to screamed suddenly and lose his footing further as she pushed him mercilessly to the edge of the roof.  As his calves connected with the roof lip, her continued the momentum to send him tumbling backwards over the building and she nearly flew with him as his lone hand was still tangled firmly within her hair.

Quinlan was fast to react as he caught the _Shiny Man_ ’s wrist in his left hand preventing her from being pulled down while still wielding his sword in his right.  Now the strigoi dangled only in Quinlan’s grip alone and as the dhampir raised his sword to finish it, the strigoi reacted impulsively, using the only thing at his current disposal as he opened his mouth and his tongue began to split apart.

Dawn was still furiously trying to pull her hair from his grip when she saw the _weapon_ emerge and Quinlan’s eyes grew wide while he diverted his blade swing to the impending attack.  She heard him screaming while he did so.

 

* * *

 

“NOOO!” and the blade came down ferociously through the _German_ ’s stinger moments after it latched snugly onto her forearm.  On the severing of it, the strigoi released his grip on her hair and she stumbled back, falling to her ass on the roof.  Quinlan released him immediately as he bent and desperately pulled at the stringer end which was still attached to her.

“No no no no no.”  He repeated as he ripped it out of her and threw it across the roof, pulling her shirt sleeve up to expose cut that it had formed.  He had not been fast enough.  She had been stung.

Quinlan knew he had to react fast.  He had seen _many_ stung, but in all of his years, he had only be able to save _one_.  And this man had been stung on his lower leg which Quinlan had removed with entire limb at the knee within seconds of the attack.  It was brutal but it had prevented the worms from spreading.  It had saved his life.

“ _O di_ , … Forgive me.”  He offered briefly as he pulled her arm out and began to raise his blade and she desperately tried to pull out of his grip in wild protest, her eyes massively wide with fear.

“What are you doing?!”  The panic on her face caused him pause.

“There is no time!  I am sorry.”  And he pulled her arm out forcefully and her frantic cries caused him pause again.  He was running out of time and he cringed at the thought of what he was about to do to her.

“NO!”  She screamed and her eyes were in such a panic that he released her from his grip, “What is wrong with you!?” She clutched her arm as she backed away from him quickly.

“I …”  Quinlan attempted to form a sentence but found himself entirely unable to speak or move as he stared at the wound and memories of Tasa’s red eyes flooded him.  He was sure it was now too late.

“We need to go.”  She prodded him but his unwillingness to move began to infuriate her but she turned her attention back to her arm and he watched in silent awe and horror as a worm started to struggle its way back out of the new wound and she reached down pulling it the rest of the way out of her fingers as she chucked the thing over the edge of the roof, shuddering to herself, “ _Gross_ … We need to go now!”

The strigoi army that savagely beat at the roof door had not relented, and it was unlikely that the door could withstand the current onslaught much longer, but Quinlan was frozen, attempting to digest what had just occurred.

“ _You_ …”  Quinlan’s mouth was agape and he looked at the cut again, grabbing her arm and smelling her skin deeply.  There were no other worms that he could detect in any way.  “You are not … _infected_.”  He really wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement, but either way he said it to her with pleading and relieved eyes.

“Why would I be infected?!  It’s just a bite.”  Her eyes were wide with concern and he realized that she had no idea what had just occurred.  She had no idea that the act of pulling that worm from her arm was entirely miraculous to him.  That the worm attempting its own retreat from her body was not normal in _any way_.

“You were stung.”  He stated.

“And?”  She was in a mild panic as she began to squeeze her arm violently, “That doesn’t mean I’m infected … it doesn’t mean you need to cut my arm off!”  She chastised him in a terrified voice at his attempted action.

“But … ” He stammered, “it does mean _this_ … “  Did she really _not_ understand?  And finally he realized in all of her time in imprisonment from the _Master_ , in all of her time in isolation at the factory and in all of her time with them at the safe house, she’d never been exposed to the strigoi infection.  Her reaction was utter innocence.

“ _No it doesn’t_ … I … I mean … I wasn’t infected the _last time_ …”  She looked down at her arm in silence, the gravity of the situation finally dawning on her.

Quinlan stammered, “You have been stung before?”  His eyes widened but then he snapped back to attention as the door swayed.

“We will discuss this later.”  The door would not hold much longer and had now started to buckle as he could hear the metal hinges giving way.  He looked over the edge of the building surveying their possible escape route and he smiled.

“Do you trust me?”  he asked while he sheathed his sword and held a hand out to her.

She hesitated on answering that question and he knew he deserved it.  He knew he did not deserve her trust again … yet.  But there was no time to dally and he did not wait for her to take his awaiting hand, instead stepping forward and picking her up again without permission.  He stepped back from the ledge of the roof at least ten feet to give himself a good running start and she gripped him tightly as she buried her face into his neck and he felt her tremble slightly.

“Do heights frighten you?”  He questioned as he plotted his landing position on the next roof over.

“It’s not the heights exactly … but **_the fall_**.”

_“I will not let you fall. **I promise**.”_

The other building was at least four stories shorter than this one, so the jump was easy and as he landed on his feet while he stiffened his body to prevent from rolling, skidding along the surface of the roof only slightly as he absorbed most of the shock of the impact through his legs and muscles.

He placed her down and she looked back at the other buildings roof that was now swarming with the strigoi from the stairwell.  Several attempted to make the jump in pursuit and Quinlan grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door leading into the building beneath, while she stared back at their route.

“Whoa, I can’t believe we just made that.”  The distance, both vertical and horizontal, between the buildings was substantial.

He grinned madly now as he reached for the roof door handle.  He was enjoying her amazement, “ _That_?  That was nothing.  I can make much farther than _that_.”

He attempted the door and found it locked.  No matter.  He pulled fiercely and the door’s hinges buckled under the force of his strength and he flung it across the roof away from them.

“Mr. Quinlan,”  She questioned slightly as he grabbed her hand to pull her through the door, “Are you bragging?”

“Yes, it’s quite unlike me … isn’t it?”  He chuckled as he pulled her along and they were down nearly all of the stairwell relatively quickly before he heard them start to funnel in from below and he pulled her into the bowels of the office building on its third floor.

“Come.”  He said as he found an outside terrace door and she hesitated, her eyes growing wide, knowing exactly what he would do next. “Come!” He grabbed her hand and lifted her up once more as he stepped up and onto the railing before gripping her tightly and jumping the remainder of the way down to the ground.  He tried to absorb the impact into his preternatural quadriceps yet again, but as it was focused directly downwards, it was not entirely possible and she gasped in his arms, feeling this impact of this landing much more than the last.

“What now?”

“The vehicle is this way.   _Come_.”  He guided her through the street and she could hear the minions behind as they pursued them on foot down the sidewalk.  Quinlan was obviously not concerned.

“Wait … that is your … _vehicle_?”  She gulped as he rounded the corner into the alleyway in front of them and straddled the parked bike.

“Indeed.  Come.”  The grin on his face was more concerning than comforting but she complied quickly.

“Is there a _helmet_?”  She questioned as Quinlan grabbed her arms and pulled them around his waist firmly.

“What is it with this unnecessary obsession with _helmets_?  We will stay upright, I assure you.  Hold on tightly.”  And Quinlan whipped the bike around in a fashion that was similar to how he had left the parking garage in the first building, creating a cloud of rubber smoke and as she hugged him even tighter, he grinned even more.

_Good_.


	80. 12.2 - Sacrifice

Thomas felt the change before he even hit the pavement.  Even before he had released his stinger in a frantic attempt to halt the Born from taking his head, he heard his Master screaming for him to stop.

**“Tue es nicht, mein besonderes kind!”**

> (Do not do it, my special child!)

But if he had done nothing, then he would be dead.  And as he fell, he felt it.  That beautiful and commanding voice getting more distant until it had finally faded into complete silence as he impacted the pavement below.

The few drops of her blood that had touched his flesh sparked inside of him the moment before the _Bastard_ had severed his strigoi limb and it had rippled across his veins in an electric celestial fire.

He pulled himself up to his knees, and attempted to call out to the silence though his lack of a tongue now made any proper verbalizations unintelligible, yet he screamed anyways.

“Mein Meister!  Mein Meister!”

> (My Master!  My Master!)

He called out in a panic riddled fit, screaming up to the rooftop from which he had just been dropped.  And he fell back down on all fours as he remembered the last strigoi to have fed on the abomination.  It had been a while since the Master had been formless and unable to control his progeny.  That was when she had escaped and fled on foot.

He had been charged with hunting it down and destroying it entirely.  The Master had called it _Die Getrennten … The Removed_.  It had been disconnected from the swarm, isolated from the _Master_ ’s voice and every bit of it had to be destroyed.  He removed its confused head and burned all of the worms to ash.

Thomas gurgled another attempt to call out, and as he heard them coming from within the building, he stayed kneeling at their feet as his _Master_ overcame the one closest to spoke to him.

**“Mein besonderes kind … Du hast das letzte Opfer für mich gemacht.”**

> (My special child … you have made the ultimate sacrifice for me.)

“Mein Meister bitte heile mich. Bitte …”  He tried to verbalize words without the use of a tongue.  The _Master_ could no longer hear him or his thoughts.

> (My Master, please fix me.  Please …)

**“I sollte dich nicht durch die Trennung von mir leiden lassen und daher dein Leben beenden.”**

> (I cannot suffer one who is removed to live.)

Thomas flinched and bowed before the red-eyed vessel which housed his most precious _Master_ , as he begged for a reprieve.

“Bitte, mein Meister!  Sie haben versprochen, dass wir für immer zusammen sein würden!”

> (Please, my Master!  You promised we would be together forever!)

**“Er hat dir das angetan. I werde dich rächen, ich verspreche es.”**

> (He has done this to you.  I will have vengeance, I promise.)

Thomas’ eyes were full of tears as he begged and wailed, looking up into his _Master_ ’s eyes one last time as he saw the minion raise the gun that it had been hiding until now.  In an instant, Thomas did what he knew he had to do.  What he had always done: to selfishly survive, at any cost … at all costs.

He was older than these shells and as he turned, the _Master_ was unable to stop him.  He ran.

And for the first time since he had been turned, he was now completely and utterly alone …

_Alone, isolated, abandoned …_

_… removed …_

##  _and **free**._

 

* * *

 

She had no idea where they were, but he seemed to know where he was going and she gripped him tightly both because he was driving ridiculously fast _and_ he was quite warm.  The cold air of the night was penetrating and she had no coat.  She didn’t really have time to grab it when they abducted her and all.

For a while she tried to watch where they were going, but the coldness got to her as soon as it started to sprinkle again.   _Damn New York and its rain._  So, she pushed her forehead firmly against his back and the sheath of the blade to shield her face from the weather’s assault.

Eventually he began to slow and when she looked up, he was pulling into an underground parking lot of some kind.

“Where are we?  Is everyone else _here_?”  Finally she could question him over the roar of the engine and wind.

“No.  We shall have to go to them in the morning.  The _Master_ will be searching for us.  It is safer if we do not leave until **_dawn_**.”  Something told her that he was smiling as he said the final word of that sentence.  He was likely quite pleased with himself again.  “It is best if they cannot follow us beyond the occultation point during daylight.”

For the most part, the garage was relatively empty and he pulled into one of the many open spaces before pushing the kick stand out and she pulled herself off wearily and stood with her arms crossed and wrapped around her wet shirt while he fetched what looked like a ring of keys out of the air duct next to the spot.

“Where are we?”  She questioned again.

“A safe place.”  He was not very forth coming with any useful answers yet.  She could tell he was still nervous about being exposed.

“Come.  It will be warmer inside.”  And he ushered her along into a hallway that lead to a stairwell entrance which he opened with one of the keys on the ring.

“I apologize, the electricity has been out since _The Fall_.  Otherwise we might be able to take the elevator, but it will be quite a climb.”

“How many floors?”

“We will be going to the twenty seventh.”

She cringed at the thought of it but even when he offered to carry her again, she refused and pulled herself along.  Unfortunately, her true fatigue set in around the fifteenth floor and he was visibly annoyed that she would still not let him carry her.

“I am not a _child_ … I just need to rest a second.”  She had pushed him away while she was panting and sat down on a step.  He begrudgingly complied with her wishes and allowed her to rest.

**_Cardio_**.  She told herself sternly.   ** _Cardio_**.

And she eventually pulled herself up and followed him the remaining twelve floors, where he opened the entrance with another key and led them into a hallway full of condo entrances.

“Do we need to worry about any–”  She attempted to whisper to him and he shook his head and interrupted her at full volume.

“No, I cleared the building months ago.  I hear nothing that should be of concern.”

The hallway ended at apartment 2719 and he began to unlock it as she chuckled out loud, “Whelp, at least it’s a prime.”

Quinlan turned and stared at her for a moment, “Why is that important?”

She shrugged meekly as she had unintentionally exposed some of her more quirky obsessions to him, “Uhh … it’s luckier I guess?  I don’t know.   _I like primes_ , ok?”

He stared at her for a moment longer as he attempted to understand what that _might_ imply and decided to drop it as he opened the door and a particularly nasty smell hit her abruptly.

“I apologize for the … _odor_.”  He scrunched up his own nose as he offered the apology only after it had assaulted both of them, “The power was out and all of the … “ he hesitated briefly before continuing, “ … _food_ … spoiled.  I removed it.”

She assumed he actually meant _blood_ when he said _food_ and she realized this was another one of his safe houses that had been provided by the _Ancients_ as payment for his assistance.

It was a small condo, but as it was on the very end of the slender building, it boasted amazing views, with the entire back wall being all windows.

She cautiously walked around, still gripping her arms tightly as her wet shirt clung to her goose bump ridden skin and surveyed the area slowly.

It had to be no more than a thousand square feet, although in New York City, she was sure it was not cheap, certainly not with this kind of view.

“Lots of windows for someone who doesn’t like the sun.”  She chuckled but as she turned to face his possible response, he had already walked off into the other room without a word, so she just continued her exploration.

It was extremely minimalist and only contained a few pieces of necessary furniture, including a bed, which meant it was a studio apartment and the only other room off of the living area was the bathroom.  It had lots of gray tones and a polished concrete floor with white washed brick on some of the walls.  She could hear him rummaging around with something before he came back from the other room with a few things in his hands.

“They are tinted for UV.”  He had heard her observation from the other room, “ _Come_.”  He waved her over to the flat kitchen island and she begrudgingly complied, but not without her own retort.

“That sees to be your favorite word today.  I’m not a _puppy_ … you can’t just order me here and there.”  She stopped several feet short of him and he sighed heavily, reading her demeanor and tone easily.

“You are _angry_ with me.”  He set a plastic container and a bottle of water down on the island as he pulled the extra black shirt that he had thrown over his shoulder off and sat it on the counter next to the box.  He seemed almost defeated as he stared at the box rather than back to her face with his accusation.

“I’m not angry … I’m _disappointed_.”

Quinlan sighed again, “I apologize for how I treated you.  I should not have locked you up as I did.”  He offered as he twiddled the shirt nervously in his fingers and awaited her response.  When he received nothing, he looked back to her for clues on how he should proceed with the conversation next.

“It was unforgi–” He attempted again before she finally spoke, cutting him off mid sentence.

“I’m **_not_** disappointed about _that_ … I accept that you do _things_ like _that_ to get what you _want_ … I’m _upset_ that you didn’t _finish_ it, Mister Quinlan.”

 

* * *

 

He stared at her sad eyes and trembling body and he knew he could offer no explanation that would satiate her at this point, at least none that she would believe … and not coming from _him_.

“The situation was _inconvenient_ …“ he tried, “There are still too many quest–”

“No, it was nothing _but_ convenient.  The _sonofabitch_ was there and you could have ended it … all you had to do–”  Her disappointment in his action was troubling to him and it was his turn to interrupt now.

“You would have rather I let you die?”

“I …” She clutched her crossed arms tighter to her body as she stammered, “I … I just wanted it all to be over.”

Quinlan’s face saddened as he pushed again, “Are you so eager to die?”  His own disappointment in her response was clear and obvious.

She stared down to the ground and he knew that if she hadn’t been so cold, she would very likely be rubbing her wrist again at this point.  “It’s not that … I think … I think everyone is just … _less eager to live_ in a world like this.”

“I assure you, I have lived in _worlds_ that are **_worse_** than this.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It rarely is.”

“No … I mean it’s not fair _to you_.”  She stated.

“What is not fair?”  He tilted his head to the right.

“It was right there … you had it.  You had your revenge in your hands … for everything you’ve lost … and I messed it up.”

And Quinlan understood, as he watched her shift back and forth, shivering slightly, that it wasn’t _him_ she was disappointed with, but herself.

“ **No**.”

“If I had stayed in that box–”

He shook his head and she continued, “If I hadn’t run to the stairs–”

“ **No**.  Do not question or doubt what had occurred.  I do not.  I have no doubt that another opportunity will present itself for _us_ to stop him.  The cost of this one was more than I was willing to pay.”

“Why?” The shivering had now reached her teeth and he stepped forward, offering her the shirt finally.

“Because I owed you.  Now we are even.”

She cocked her head to him and furrowed her brows, “How do you figure that?”

“I cost you _your_ _revenge_ , did I not?”

She looked down, ignoring his offer of dry clothes, “I–”

“He was the one, was he not?”  She said nothing as she stared down and he reached out and pulled her chin up so that she could see his face and eyes.  She gave him a single nod in confirmation before he continued, “And _you_ saved _me_ instead of finishing him.  We are even.”

“That’s hardly the same.  You would have saved them all though … you would have saved the world.”  She protested.

“I care less about _this world_ than about my personal grievances with my _father_.”  He assured her.

“That’s a bit harsh.  Don’t _you_ live here too.”

He smiled at her now, “This may be the end of _humanity_ , but the world will undoubtedly carry on.   _Humanity_ has been less than kind to me.  There are very few things in _this world_ that I care about.”  He stated calmly and plainly.

He offered the shirt again and this time she reluctantly accepted it as he turned around to afford her privacy, “It will be quite large on you I am afraid, but it is dry.”

He could sense her embarrassment preventing her from moving immediately but he waited patiently and as soon as he heard her pull the wet one off and slip the dry one over, he turned back around.  He had been quite right, and it was very large on her and this caused him to fight a smile that almost escaped.  He now pointed to the open area on the counter next to his black box, “Here.  Please.”  

She stepped forward and looked at the spot to which he pointed for a moment, not understanding what he meant until he reached out and lifted her onto it with her under arms.  She flinched slightly as he did so, not expecting the sudden movement, but not fighting him once it was finished.

She nervously looked at his face which was now eye to eye and then down at the box that he had begun to unlatch and open, revealing a number of medical supplies within.  He felt the tension in her body as he pulled the suture kit out to get the supplies underneath and offered her a quick assurance, “Do not worry.  You do not require stitches.”

“I’m ok … really.”  He took gauze and opened the bottle of water as he began to clean her beaten face of the dried blood.  “I can do this myself.”

“Yes.”  He agreed but ignored her as he continued his action.

She looked down at the water sheepishly and then spoke softly, “Do you mind if I …” and she pointed to the bottle.  He had not even considered her thirst until now.  

“Of course.”  He said as he watched her voraciously finish off the entire bottle.  “Another?”  And as she nodded eagerly, he retreated to the closet and procured two more from the supplies within.  He allowed her to finish off one of the new ones before proceeding to clean the wounds on her face.

The cut on her eyebrow was the deepest and she cringed as he cleaned it first, meticulously wiping the blood away, rubbing it with alcohol and applying salve to it.

“Why do you even have antibiotic cream anyways?”  She asked.

“It comes standard in these kits.”

“What else is in there?” And she looked over, pulling her face out of his hands and his annoyance was almost entirely hindered by the smile that her curiosity brought to his face.

“Dawn, please.” As he moved her chin back to face him, “We must speak now.”

He pushed the cut together as he taped a butterfly bandage across it to hold it together and he stared at her eyes as they widened and she gulped, “ _About what?_ ”

“ _Everything_.”


	81. 12.3 - Sacrifice

“You know as much as I do now, _Mister_ Quinlan.”

His displeasure was obvious as he stopped his work on her lower lip to stare into her eyes and cock his head to the right.  It bothered him how much power she held over his frame of mind by using those two little words: _Mister Quinlan_.  She used them as a passive aggressive jab at him, to remind him each and every time, that he had fundamentally changed things between them with his actions the night before.  After everything that happened today, that night seemed so very _very_ far away now.

“I know you do not trust me and I fully accept that is why you said nothing before.  Why you kept all of this to yourself.  Given my actions, I will not fault you for that decision.  I gave you the impression that I would do whatever necessary to fulfill my destiny, no matter the cost to anyone else.  But I ask that you consider my actions tonight as proof that I _am_ worthy of at least _earning_ your trust.”

She sat still as he cleaned her face further, “I don’t know what more you want to know?”

He sighed dramatically, “You were supposed to be on _that_ plane, were you not?”

“Oh … Yeah … that.  How did–”

“Start there.”  He wiped the cut in the spot on her lower jaw which was already bruising, causing her to flinch slightly.

“I _missed_ my flight in Berlin.  I had to take a later flight.”  She slightly smiled at this as some memory about it seemed to amuse her.

“Why were you coming here?”

“I had a job interview.”

“Where?”  He began to wipe the cut on her lower lip as she spoke.

“Stoneheart.”  Of course it was.

Quinlan paused and diverted his attention from the cut on her mouth to her eyes and then back to the task at hand, “You sought out this job?  You applied there?”

“No.  They reached out to me.”

“ _Directly_ to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And did you not think this _odd_?  That seems careless to me.”  He looked back to her eyes as his brows slightly furrowed showing slight concern.

“Are you seriously going to try and lecture me _right now_?”

“No.  That is not my intention, but I would think it odd if a strange company reached out–”

“It’s not _odd_ … it’s not _strange_.  It’s actually pretty common in the tech industry. Especially if you’re as good as I am,” she said with a slight smirk.

“How would they have _found you_?”

“LinkedIn usually.”  He cocked his head to the right to express an unverbalized question, “Look, recruiters reach out to me _all the time_ … it wasn’t a big deal.  But, yeah … ok … they were _super_ aggressive about it, ok?”

“It still seems as though it should have been concerning to you at the very least.”  He realized after he said it that he was unintentionally lecturing her and he sighed.  She should be more careful.

“I … I needed a job, _ok_?  After the … _divorce_.”  The last part of her sentence was whispered rather than spoken and he regretted pushing her as sadness swarmed her face, “Good things don’t normally happen to me, _Mister Quinlan_.”

He sighed again as those two powerful words jabbed at him and he dropped it, prodding her to continue.  “Your second flight?”

“It was diverted to Newark.  I contacted Stoneheart to let them know I was coming in on another flight and the car was already waiting for me when I got off the airplane.  They _already knew_ I had been diverted.”  And she smiled briefly, “They even had one of those dudes holding the card with my name on it … “ She shrugged, “I thought it was pretty cool, all things considered.”  And this last part was followed by a frown.

“That is when they took you?”

She nodded.

“Where?”

“A cold dark place.”  She shrugged and he waited for her to continue, “… you know the rest.”

He watched her level of comfort plummet as she pulled her face from his hands and looked away as he once again placed his hand on her jaw and moved her face back to his, “I promise we will never need to speak of this again, but right now … at this moment … we must.  What occurred next?”

“They _hurt_ me.”  She started and then stopped.  He pushed for more, and she relented to him completely, divulging everything that they did and once she started, there was no interruption from him again.  She explained the chains, the shackles, the hooks, the whip, the bucket, the knife, and even the _poem_.  

Quinlan cringed silently at all of it, but he gave zero outward indications of it.  To show any amount of anger or pity at this moment would just derail her from her tale.  There was nothing of extreme importance either, and he felt a swell of shame as he realized he just _wanted_ to know.  No, he just _needed_ to know what they had done to her.

When he was certain she was done, he asked gently, “ _Why_?”

“I don’t know.”

“What reason was provided?”  He pushed.

“ _None_.”  His sigh was overflowing with displeasure and she stuttered, “You heard me asking during _The Call_ … I don’t know … they never said.”

“What did they say?”

She looked down to the floor and tried to remember but shook her head, “Nothing of value … nothing that made _sense_.”

“What were the things that did not make sense?  Regardless of significance … what was said?”

Now she finally reached for her wrist and he was surprised that she had waited this long to start that nervous act.  Reaching down, he placed his hand on hers to halt the distraction of the rubbing, “ _Please_.  Do not do that.”  He fought a twitch.

“They said they **_needed_** to hurt me … that _he_ needed to _know_.”

“To know what?”

She closed her eyes as the scene flooded back over her and the _Shiny Man’s_ voice rippled across her mind, “To know … that _they_ knew.”

“What else?”

She opened her eyes and met his with extreme shame, “That this is all **_my_** fault … That this is **_all_** on me … That … This is **_because_** of me.”

“That is a lie.”  He dismissed it, “The _Master_ is known for deception … known for lies … do not take anything as pure truth.  What else was said?”

“ **No**.”  She said bluntly, “You want me to share with you … to _trust_ you …”

“Yes.”

“Seems unfair if I’m the only one who is sharing.”

Quinlan sighed and returned to cleaning the last wound on her face, “What do you wish to know?”

“What are your _personal grievances_ with _the one_?”

She had never used this term before, but he knew immediately she meant his _father_ , “He took _many_ from me.”

“Who?”

“ _Many_.  It matters not.  What else was said?”  He attempted to divert the conversation back to her.  Sharing was not something that he was easily capable of.

She shrugged, “I don’t know.   _Many_ things were said.”

“What things?”  He pushed again.

“ ** _Many_**.”  She shrugged again.

He stared at her for a moment, in complete understanding of what she was requesting from him and he slowly complied, “The woman who freed me.”

“The one who … ‘ _awaits you in eternity_ ‘?”  Her smile was disingenuous and he knew this because her genuine smiles were something that easily caused him pause.

“No.   _Ancharia_ was a mother to me.  The only mother that mattered at least.”

“She was turned?”

“No … “ He hesitated briefly, “The _Master_ forced my hand … She was already dying … I …”  Quinlan stopped in his explanation as he realized that he had _never_ voiced what had occurred in that cave to _anyone_.  His shame was overwhelming and he held in the twitch that was desperate to escape as he applied the salve to her swollen lip next.

“I see.”  Yes, he knew that she did see because she had already met _that_ side of him after all.

“Now … What else?”  He prodded gently.

“They said that if I ran, they would find everyone that I knew … everyone that I loved.  I … ” she fiddled with her fingers as she stared down to them, “I ran.”

Quinlan smiled at this, “Ah.  Yes.   _I was promised the same_.”

“And … was the promise _fulfilled_?”

“Yes.  Each and ** _every time_**.  But I realized he could not take something away from me which I did not possess, so I stopped.”

“Stopped what?”

“Attachments.”

“I shouldn’t have run.”  She stated.

He shook his head.  “Understand that he would have taken everyone from you regardless.  You ran and survived.  And while you must live with whatever you think that cost was,“ he moved her chin up to look into her eyes again, “know that I have done the same.”  She made no response to his words and he offered one last bit of comfort, “Besides if you are of importance to whatever plan my _father_ has, then is it not better that you did run?”

She laughed, “You sound just like my voice now.”

“Tell me about this.  You have always heard it?”

“No no no.  No, I heard it for the first time in a long time the day I ran.”

“It helped you to escape?”

“Yes.   _She_.”  She corrected him.

“And it … _she_ … has spoken to you since?”

“Only when I need … _guidance_ I think?”

“In the office building?  To escape from the box?”

“Kind of … she told me to pay attention before he locked me in, but once I was in it, I couldn’t hear her anymore … I was …”

“Disconnected.”  He stated and he smiled.  “This means she is not just in your head.  She is not a figment of your imagination if the box severed her connection to you.  When else has she helped you?”

“When I was in your … _embrace … s_ he told me–”

Quinlan interrupted, “ ** _Invictus_**.”  She nodded and the smile that graced his face was one of the widest that he knew he’d ever had.  This was the piece of that puzzle that had worried him so very much in the beginning and now it was starting to all make sense.  This is how she knew his title.  There was nothing sinister about her.

“Is this all?”

“No, she told me … to trust you.”

Smirking while he said it, Quinlan joked, “She sounds wise.”  He was quite amused with himself and Dawn raised her eyebrow to him in response of it.  “And yet … you did not.  You told me none of this, _libellula_.”

She furrowed her brows at the foreign word but ignored it, continuing on, “I …” and now she whispered to him, “You would have thought I was **_CrAzY_**.”

“You should not make assumptions about me.”

“Hearing voices?  That … _runs in my family_ … and _not_ in a good way.”

Quinlan tilted his head at the reveal, “What do you mean?”

“My father and his father and _his_ father … “ and then she whispered again, “ _Schizophrenia_.  I … thought the voices were gone … for good.”

Quinlan asked the same question again that he has posed to her in a mad rush in the stairwell, “How many **_voices_** were there?”

“ ** _No_**.  Your turn.”

Quinlan sighed, rolling his eyes gently at her, “Very well … What do you wish to know?”

She shrugged, “ _Your grievances_ … Who else?”

“There was Decimus.  The _best_ of all my friends.  He was in the process of turning and he asked that I end him before the worms were fully in control.  I took his head.”

He could see the disappointment on her face.  It was not the tale she was hoping for, but now it was his turn again, “How many voices?”

“Just one.  There were more … when I was little … “  She rubbed her wrist again and he placed his hand on it, gripping it and turned it over to expose her wrist, “What is this?”  He touched the mark with his other hand as he spoke.

“A birthmark.”  Even as she said it, he knew that she didn’t believe her words either.

“You were born with this?”

“I … _don’t remember._ ”

She was not being entirely honest, “You were _not_ born with this?”  He attempted the reverse question.

“No … I mean … _I don’t remember_.”  She whispered again and he could hear the hesitation rampant in her voice.

“Please.  What is preventing you–”

“Because” she whispered yet again and he stared down to her thin lips as she spoke, mouthing the words more than saying them fully, “It’s _CrAzY._  Don’t make me say it.”

“I do _not_ think you crazy, _please_.”

“I don’t remember very much _before_ … “

“Before?  Before _this_?” And he touched it again briefly.

“I remember getting in trouble for burning myself or something, but it’s not a burn.  The doctor told us it was just a birthmark.”  This line of questioning seemed to bother her more than when she told him of her torture.  Her body trembled at the very mention of it.

“How old?”

“I don’t remember, _Mister Quinlan_.  Four or five?  Why do you care about _this_ so much?  What aren’t you telling me?”  She was finally realizing that there was an aspect to his questioning that he had not yet revealed to her.

“Yet you remember there being voices and they stopped when _this_ appeared?”  He held her wrist and gently touched the red pigmented skin and she stared down at it with him.

“I … “  He could see that she had failed to make that connection until _this_ moment.  Something had prevented her from realizing it for herself.

“What else?”  He asked.

“What was _her_ name?”  It was his turn and she wanted more from him.  This trading game had become troublesome to him now.

“ _Her_ name was _Tasa_.”  He said.

“Who was she to you?”

“My _wife_.”  His answers were very short and he continued on his previous path of questioning, “Other things?  Other oddities?”

“They thought I was _special_.”

His eyes brightened, “They **_knew_** you were **_special_**?”  Why did she not start with this??

“No no … not in a _good way_ … “ and she pointed to her head, “ _in the **head**_ … I couldn’t speak … _wouldn’t_ speak.  It was all gibberish.”

He smiled at this and nodded, “ ** _Gibberish_**.”  Quinlan speculated that he knew what that was, as gibberish is exactly what Mr. Fet had described her speech while she had been holding the _Lumen_ that night he was absent.

“And you spoke after _this_ … _this **Angel’s Kiss**?_ ”  And he touched the skin on her wrist lightly again, stroking it with curiosity.  It had no texture at all, only pigmentation, as if someone had just _painted_ it onto her skin.

“What did _she_ look like?”

Ah, it was his turn again now.  Instead of trying to describe his wife to the prodding little _Poet_ with words again, Quinlan did something he had never done before and he pulled the locket from his pocket and simply handed it to her carefully.  While she looked at it, he continued, “What else?  Anything else that might stand out to you?”

She stared at the locket and Quinlan realized how very sad holding it had made her and he held his hand out for her to return it to him.  She surrendered it into his palm and watched silently as he returned the precious item back into the safety of his pocket.  “No.  No.  I’m pretty boring.  People don’t really like me, but I think that’s normal.”

Quinlan smirked, “That is something _we_ have in common then.”  He immediately regretted showing it to her as she did not return his smile.  And as she pulled her wrist out of his hand, he knew by the severe change of her demeanor that the questioning was likely finished … _for now._

 

* * *

 

The soldier sat on his cold perch and waited.  He’d been waiting for days.  As he peered across to the twin condo tower, he sighed heavily.  The radiation, he assumed, was finally getting to him as the nausea had set in hours before.  While the wind and dust weren’t helping, he assumed the rain was and he welcomed it when it first started to sprinkle.

He set his weapon aside and picked up the picture he had set on the ledge to save it from the moisture which now fell from the sky above.  He ran his finger over his three year old son’s face and hoped he was well.

When he thought he saw movement in the unit across the distance, he dismissed it at first.  He’d spent the last days in utter solitude and he just assumed it was getting to him.  He pulled out a ration pack and began to eat, forcing it down through the sickness that was brewing inside of him, looking at his son again while he ate.

 

* * *

 

Her face was clean and bandaged and he relented on his interrogation for the moment as he attempted to help her down from the counter, but she brushed him off and jumped down without his assistance as a rumble escaped her stomach.

“Ooof, sorry … “  She blushed.

“When is the last time you _fed_?”

She blinked, “I **_ate_** this morning … but it’s been a long day.”

“There are foods in other units on this floor.  Stay here and I will find you something.”

“I can find my own–”  She attempted.

“It will be easier for me. It has been a _long day_.   _Please_ just stay here.”  He stated as he began to walk towards the door.

It _had_ been a long day, and she was just so tired at this point that she didn’t bother to fight him on it.  Before he left, she pointed to the only door in condo, “Is the bathroom that way?”

“Yes, but there is no running water, I am afraid.”

 _Oh thank Zeus himself_ … she’d had to pee since they locked her in that damn box.  And once that was remedied, she explored the closet within and found another bottle of water that she eagerly consumed as she poked around his hoarded things.  More clothing, more weapons, more ammunition, more first aid kits, and boxes of burner phones.  Those were entirely useless now.  Of course more bullets though, she mused to herself as she touched one of the micro uzis gingerly before returning to the living area.

In her solitude, she considered many things while she stared out over the dusty city view and waited for him to return.  She hadn’t told him everything that was on her mind, _everything_ that raced by it … _all_ the oddities of her life … _all_ the strangeness which now seemed to … form some kind of bizarre yet terrifying conclusion that he wasn’t sharing with her yet.

She remembered things now …

That when she had twisted her ankle in college, and the xrays showed _countless_ healed fractures everywhere, yet she’d _never_ broken it _nor anything else_.

That when she had finally spoken, it had not been gradual, it had been perfect English, as if a switch had been flipped.  She woke up one day and was _almost_ normal.

That when she finally began to speak, she was also able to sleep without the torment of the nightmares.  That _finally_ … she no longer saw only _snakes_ when she shut her eyes every night.

That after _they_ first met and they had been together for a while, he thought it a neat parlor trick that she sometimes said what he was thinking, and that when he _left_ her, he told her over the years, he had realized it was not a trick.  That when he _left_ , he said he would always love her but he was **_terrified_** of her.

The _Master_ ’s words from the cell haunted her now:

> **_“I have him now … I have his memories … I know what you are capable of.”_ **

There were other things, but these were just things that were oddities … mere coincidences.  These were not things that needed to be voiced or shared.  Right?

Because everyone **_thinks_** they are _special,_

     … in some way

          … in some form.


	82. 12.4 - Sacrifice

The smell was repugnant and she opened the balcony door to let some of it out before she timidly stepped out into the wet air fully, and breathed deeply.  This was unlike any safe house she would have assumed he would have, as he was _always_ lecturing her on _escape routes_.  She looked over the railing and down below as her knees shook.

“It’s not _the fall_ that kills you,” she reminded herself, “it’s the impact with the ground.”  There were very few taller buildings around the area, save for one that stood several blocks away and seemed to be an exact clone of the building that housed their unit.  It stood over twice as tall as the current floor she occupied and she was suddenly very grateful that he didn’t have a unit on one of the top floors.  She might have had to concede and let him carry her like a child again.  She cringed at the thought.

As she walked along the railing, she stopped at a spot around four feet from the far wall and touched a deeply grooved “X” that had been gouged into it.   _Strange_.  Everything in the unit was immaculate, albeit a bit dusty, but perfect and new.  She shifted her attention out and into the city as she surveyed the darkness and the quietness and found it eerie.  The city was dead … just like _yesterday_.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan searched the closest two units quickly and found nothing that he knew she would like.  There were many dried foods of the _cranberry_ flavor and he remembered an argument with Miss Velders that had ensued, where Dawn had been left with only _cranberry_ options.  Dutch had no preferences, yet she had consumed all of the _peanut butter_ ones first.

In the next unit, he found several boxes of unopened _Kind_ bars.  One of which said _peanut butter_ which pleased him, he knew that was one of her preferred flavors of things.  He read and found that they were indeed high calorie.   _Good_.  When he returned to the flat, he was shocked to find her standing outside … _on_ the balcony.

“You should not be out here.”  He was harsh as he pulled her back inside, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Sorry … it’s terrible in here, the _smell_ –”  She attempted to justify her action.

“I am aware.  Trust me, it is far more unpleasant for me than you, but it is best if we stay out of _sight_.  The _Master_ has eyes _everywhere_.”

She nodded and greedily accepted the bar that he offered to her, “Thank you.”

“Of course … There is more, I found an entire box.” He waved to the counter where he had left it before ushering her back inside.

As he began to walk back towards the kitchen to put away the kit that was left out, he heard her voice again, “No, I mean **_Thank You_** … for helping me.  I don’t normally _need_ help.”

He turned back and was pleased to find the genuine smile that he had been hoping for earlier, “Nor do I … Though I do not _require_ your gratitude … ”

Her smile had started to fade with his almost callous words, but as he finished his sentence, it returned to her spotted face, “… however it is very much **_appreciated_**.”  

He returned to the kitchen and put the items that he had removed from the box back inside of its confines and clicked it shut, looking nervously over to the woman who stood near the tall windows as he did so.  He was, at this point in time, more tired than he could remember being in well over a millennium.  And it wasn’t just physical exhaustion that he was feeling overwhelmed by, but the emotional turmoil that had pummeled him throughout the day.  Everything had taken its toll; Quinlan felt wrecked but at the same time, he also felt completely grateful.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?”  She asked.

“I will scout a _vehicle_ I have in the area and we will meet back up with the others.”

“ _Vehicle_?  We won’t be taking the bike again?”  He could hear the relief in her voice, but he knew if she realized what he planned to take in its stead, she would have been less relieved.

“You and Miss Velders share a common distaste for it.”  He chuckled.

“ _She rode it with you?_ ” He thought he might have detected a hint of jealousy in her question.

“Indeed, when we came back for you.”

“ _What happened_?  Why did you come alone?”  She asked quietly.

“It was a trap.  I will tell the whole story tomorrow, but we should rest now.  It has been _a long day_ after all.”  She nodded and returned to staring out the window.

He picked up the box with the intent to return it to the closet before he hesitated, remembering the bomb and his last thoughts the moments before he assumed he would perish.  Perhaps in his exhaustion, his mind was not thinking straight, but he spoke anyways.

“I would like to apologize for last night.”  He read the tension in her body as her arms crossed and she attempted to halt him.

“Please, I don’t–”

“My actions and my words were not–”

“I do not _require_ an apology for the _truth_.”  She borrowed these very words from him, as she often did when she was making a hurtful point.  “However I _appreciate_ that you were **_honest_** with me.”  And she assumed the conversation was over as she turned back to face the broken city.

“You misunderstand … I was being the–”  ( _opposite of honest with you_.)  The sentence that Quinlan had wished to finish so desperately continued playing through his mind even though he had halted its execution … once he had heard the sound … even _before_ she saw the flash from across the way at the other tower.  He heard it and recognized it.

_Oh … gods._

 

* * *

The soldier saw the movement on the balcony and checked it with his stationary scope that was already set up and pointed directly to the target.  He could see a woman walk out.  She didn’t move like an infected and he pulled back away and looked at the folder he was given and the visage of the target.  

There were several pictures of him and he had studied them well in the days he’d been up here without relief.  The target looked like an _infected_ , but the pictures were taken during the day.  

He particularly liked the big red letters across the top of the page: “ ** _DO NOT DIRECTLY ENGAGE_** ”.  Initially, he had dismissed this.  He was SEAL, there were few people whom he would _shy_ away from engaging.  As he read the rest of the report, he admitted to himself that _DO NOT ENGAGE_ was likely a good idea.

**Physical description:**

> Long coat, hood, sword (who carries a sword?!), bald, white and veiny skin, athletic build, wears all black, 6’2”, noticeable scar across the entire left side of his face, pointed ears (great, I’m sniping an elf)

**Abilities description:**

> Heightened senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste
> 
> _(why the fuck would I care about taste?!)_
> 
> Enhanced Strength: _Limits not currently known_
> 
> _(Thanks for at least SOME idea)_
> 
> Burst Speed: _Estimated 1-5 seconds up to 2,500 feet per second_
> 
> _(wait …. what?)_
> 
> Hand to Hand Combat: Types: _All_
> 
> _(All?!  What kind of description is that??)_
> 
> Range and Melee Weapons Proficient: Types: _All_
> 
>     (ಠ_ಠ, _again with the ALL?_ )
> 
> Heightened: Balance, Kinesthetic sense, Pain tolerance, Healing, Endurance
> 
> _(WTF is Kinesthetic sense??)_

**Other:**

> Generally carries two concealed IWI Micro 9mm Uzis with extended magazines
> 
> _(Two of them?  Like … at the same time?)_

He chuckled to himself when he read it the first time, “They could have saved themselves some ink and just wrote: **Scary Motherfucker**.”  He didn’t care either way, he wasn’t going to get close enough to him for any of it to matter.

He watched the woman walk around and stand on the balcony for a few minutes until the target presented himself.  He quickly pulled the female back inside and shut the door.  The tint on the windows prevented him from seeing inside at night, but confirmation had been made.

He pulled his radio out of his bag and attempted to contact command.

“This is Reaper Three.  I have an affirmative target sighting.   _Over_.”

He heard nothing but static returned on the other end.

He repeated again, “This is Reaper Three.  I have an affirmative target sighting.  Is termination still a go?   _Over_.”

He waited for a minute, trying the other channels, repeating the same thing every time.  He looked back to his photo before saying to himself, “Fuck it.”

He had his sniper rifle, but they said that last time, it hadn’t been ‘ _effective_ ’, so he opted for something a bit less elegant as he lifted the rocket-propelled grenade launcher to his shoulder and used the sight to line up the target and squeezed the trigger.

“I’m comin’ home, baby.”

 

* * *

 

“Quint–”  Was all she managed, as she was still swinging around to him, but he had dropped the box, drawn his gun, fired two shots towards the glass behind her and was already running at full speed.  Everything slowed for Quinlan in these moments of extreme agility…

He was now moving faster than the box was falling …

He was now running faster than the projectile that barreled its way directly towards them …

He was now running as fast as the bullets that were already making their way past her …

He was heading directly towards her and as he reached her, he scooped her into a hug under her arms while the bullets finally connected with the glass, weakening it.  He continued his path through it using his right shoulder as the lead.  Without breaking stride, he used his momentum to push through the shards of glass as they seemed to hover about them.

Holding her tightly against his chest, he stepped up and onto the railing right at the spot where he had carved the “X” with his sword months ago.  In one fluid motion, he bent both legs while he stepped and pushed himself up and out with as much force as his preternatural legs could manage.

They were now in the air.

_Tighter_.  He commanded and her arms gripped tighter around his torso.  In the midst of all of this, neither one of them realized that he had never actually verbalized the command.

 

* * *

 

“PROFESSOR!”  Fet screamed to the other side of the wall, “We can’t stay here, der too many of them!  He’s on his own!”  He threw his arm around the corner and shot at the strigoi mob that had broken through their barricade.

“I’m with Fet on this one … We gotta go!”  Ephraim screamed as he shot.

“Very well, the charge is set?”

Fet nodded as Gus and Dutch came from the doorway to their left, “This way leads into the garage!  Come on, let’s go!”  Gus screamed at them and waved everyone back through while he and the Hacker gave them cover, slamming the door and wedging a bar through the handle.  It was a mere two seconds before the strigoi were beating on it to get through.

As they made their way through the parking area to the loading dock, Dutch made an observation, “HOLY FUCK what happened here??”

“ _The Born,_ Miss Velders. _The Born_ happened.”  Abraham conjectured as they ran past.  Human bodies were strewn about haphazardly.  Some shot, some removed of their heads and some just _broken_.  As they rounded the last bend and the exit signs were in sight, Dutch cringed at the sight she saw.  There had obviously been some type of explosion, but one of the men was missing most of his intestines, upper _and_ lower, which were scattered all over the floor in front of his limp body.

“Oh my god … is that from… “ she gagged, “ _a grenade_?”  As she stepped over the disemboweled man, she heard the faint crackle of the radio that was attached to his belt.

_“* **crackle** * Reaper Three * **crackle** * affirmative target sighting.  Over. * **crackle** *”_

“I don’t think so,”  Ephraim said as he pulled her along.  He’d seen many wounds from grenades in his time with Doctors Without Borders and he knew _that_ was not what had happened to _that_ man.

“Wait, are you saying–”

“Let’s GO!”  Fet screamed at the dilly dallying people and he looked down at his watch before smiling widely, “3-2-1 … **_BOOM_**.”

The explosion that ripped through the building was severe and rocked the walls around them as they ran up the ramp and hit the street.

 

* * *

 

He knew where he would need to jump with enough force to project himself in the perfect arching dive into the other building.  He had marked the location, based on what he knew of his own abilities, weight and the aerodynamic shape that he would take during flight.  There was a very large terrace on the Fifteenth floor which would have afforded him the best landing spot, and he would have had to roll to absorb the impact of the landing unscathed.

It had been a good plan, but from the moment he launched the both of them up and into air, he was trying to decide for what would occur next.  Her added weight would affect the arch, just slightly, but enough.  The rain, her added shape, both from her body and his arms wrapped around her, would affect the aerodynamic nature of the jump.  At least he had had enough lead on the missile and the two buildings were far enough apart that he didn’t need to worry about the force the explosion might have on his current path.  He knew there was no way he could land where he wished and there was no way he could roll with her either, she would break.

He did his best to adjust mid air so that he was on the bottom and he looked back as their arch had started its downward trajectory and he held her tightly with one arm and brought the other one still holding the uzi in the direction that they flew.  They were going to hit the windows and he began shooting to weaken the glass where he estimated they would impact.  He emptied the magazine into the windows and pulled his arm back as he tucked his head to lead with his upper back.

He knew this was going to hurt and he closed his eyes tightly bracing himself right before contact.


	83. 12.5 - Sacrifice

Pulling fiercely in a last moment effort to lead with his left side, Quinlan felt her tuck her arms back to her chest at the same time and he gripped her even tighter. And as soon as they hit the window, they tore through it like a torpedo.  He was no longer in control of how fast they were moving, as they were now simply at the mercy of gravity itself. As they broke through the glass at a gradual angle, it shattered and flew around them and into them in a storm of piercing chaos.

He felt the shards tear through him everywhere that was exposed.  Through his coat, his vest, his shirt and his skin and when his back made contact with the ground, the impact was significant, as he heard her grunt when the breath was forcefully expelled from her lungs.  They slid along the smooth surface of the ground and he felt his body connect with several objects and fling them aside until they finally skidded to a stop after colliding with the back wall of the unit.

As soon as the noise and madness abated, he listened and found her still breathing, felt her heart beating against his chest.  She began to move slightly before he did, attempting to pull out of his still firm arms and he reluctantly let her go as he let his head fall back to the ground and he relaxed his entire body, letting out his own grunt as he contemplated the pain that permeated nearly every part of him.  He hesitated here before moving again reluctantly.  He felt the glass all throughout his body, but the piece that was lodged in his side, through his ribs, was the most concerning right now.

“ _Quinlan_?”  It was weak and he could hear the tremble in her voice as she rolled off of him and onto the broken glass that was scattered around them.

“Yes,” was all he could manage before he smelled her blood and he sat up quickly bringing his moment of rest to an end.  He didn’t bother asking her if she was hurt because he knew from the intensity of the odor, she was and it was significant.  He pulled her up as she grunted through the pain and saw the large fragment protruding from just under her left shoulder.  He had not come through the glass storm unscathed and neither had she.

“I … “ she tried to speak through her haze right before he pulled his belt free and looped it tightly above the wound on her shoulder, pulling it snug while using the prong to poke a new hole in the leather strap where it would be tight enough to halt her blood flow.  He then reached out and grabbed her shoulder, bracing it with his left hand as he gripped the shard with the right and pulled it out sharply, quickly, and without any kind of warning provided to her.

She cried out and Quinlan cringed at her yelp, “I am _sorry_.”  He offered before attempting to pull her up to her feet as he failed and stumbled back slightly, needing to brace himself against the wall as his head swam for a moment.

She managed to pull herself to her feet without his aid and he questioned, “Are you hurt elsewhere?”  And she looked herself up and down, gripping her right ribs tightly.

“No cuts, no.”  He nodded quickly to her statement and proceeded to rid himself of his own intruding glass pieces.  Unable to reach the ones that were embedded into his back, he turned to her.

“Please, _can you_? … “ he trailed off for a moment as he reached the largest one that was embedded in his side ribs, touching it gingerly first in an attempt to assess how deep it might have gone, “Can you pull out of the larger pieces?”

Her eyes widened as she saw the current state of his torso and nodded as she began to pull as many of the pieces out that she could manage.  He tried to listen for movement from above, wincing only slightly as she pulled the fragments lose, but he heard nothing.  Whoever the assailant was, he knew they were still in the building, and somewhere above them.

He touched the piece in his side again and decided that it was not possible to leave it there as it was easily large enough to impede his movements and as he gripped it and began to pull it free of its snug position wedged between his ribs and she gasp.

“That’s–” She started and he interrupted.

“ _I know_.  I will be fine.”  He grunted, finally pulling it free and tossing it onto the ground.  He knew what she was going to say, as it was the spot that he had told her about in the gym that day when he had held the bowie knife firmly against it with his powerful words: “ _This is how you kill me._ ”

“I will be fine.  It is not deep.”  He reassured her but he knew it was more to reassure himself at this point as he felt the blood trickling out of the wound already and he pushed on the wound with his hand in an attempt to halt the blood loss.  His body would heal, now it was just a matter of how much blood he might lose until then.  He was not lying though, if it had been deeper, he would have already been dead.

“You don’t look fine.”  The concern on her face wrecked his own self confidence and he pulled her to him as he finally heard movement coming from above.

Quickly surveying the unit, he found the layout an exact duplicate of the one they had just leapt from, “ _Hurry_ , we need to move.”  His hand found hers and he pulled her quickly to the door, spying something on the ground in their path as they moved towards the exit.  His sword handle was intact, but the metal had snapped near the hilt of the blade and he picked it up as they walked passed it.  The blade itself, he assumed, was still in the sheath.   _Damnation_.

This wasn’t the first time he had broken it over the many years, but it would be useless to him right now.  He’d emptied one of the magazines into the window and that left only one gun of use now.  He handed the blade handle to her to carry and pulled out the only gun with ammunition left before they were out the door, heading in the direction of the noise from above.

He could tell from the sound of the footsteps heading down the stairs towards their level that it wasn’t a strigoi.

 _Good_.

He needed _blood_ and he needed it soon.

 

* * *

 

The soldier watched as the rocket made its straight line towards the unit and he blinked repeatedly as he heard gunfire immediately following the launch.  He watched _something_ human shaped fly out of the apartment window, shooting across the entire length between the buildings, before he heard more gunfire and a terrible sound of glass shattering as it connected with the building several floors below him.

He blinked again as he sat back confused.

_Did he just … no … no fuckin’ way, man._

He pulled the sheet out one more time and looked over the abilities and re-verified to himself that “ ** _flying_** ” was _NOT_ listed on the sheet.  In any case, he needed to get out of the building.  The **_DO NOT ENGAGE_** warning was looming painfully in his mind right now, and whatever _that thing_ was, it was now in the building with him, and likely between him and the exit below.

He left most of his gear and grabbed the rifle as he made a run for the stairwell and began to make his way downwards.

 _Shit_.

 

* * *

 

Her shoulder throbbed and the extent that he had tightened his belt had nearly cut all circulation off to her arm, but she knew that he was in worse shape as he struggled to hide the damage that had wrecked his body, pulling her and stumbling slightly with each step.

“ _Hurry_ … “  He mumbled and pulled her down the hallway and into the stairway access door, “We must go up.”

“ _Up_?!  Why _up_?”

“We must get to the roof … “ his voice was a struggle and every breath was a rattle now.  She’d seen him stumble like this before, when she had helped up from that factory floor and aided him in walking down the stairs to her safe room.  He had been dying.

“Quinlan, I don’t think–”  She tried to argue with his plan as he jerked her quickly and sharply out of the way to the wall on the opposite side of the stairwell before she had even heard the gunshot from above, and the bullet hit the floor where they had been standing.  Before she realized what had occurred, he was already firing back, directly upwards towards their assailant, but his motions were increasingly sloppy and uncalculated.

As the first bullet tore into his leg and the second cut into his bicep, she lurched forward to try and grab him as he staggered back against the brick wall.  Lifting his gun one last time, he sprayed the landing above without mercy but finally he just slid down into a sitting position, letting the uzi fall onto his lap, now loose in his grip.

“Quinlan!” She whispered loudly and dropped to his side as he looked over to her with eyes half closed.  He tried to raise his free hand to point towards the stairs above but gave up midway through the attempted action, letting his arm go limp instead as he half whispered, half mouthed the word, “ _blood_ ” to her.

An expression of serenity graced his white face as he now smiled at her, staring at her eyes, as he reached up and touched her face with his index and middle fingers and sliding his fingers across her spotted cheek and he stared down at her lips.

“ ** _Dragonfly_**.”  He whispered and she heard the sound of metal against metal above and knew the gunman was likely attempting to reload.  His smile grew wider while his eyes grew narrower until finally they were fully closed.

_No … oh god … fuck._

She heard the voice saying something, but her mind was a swarm of frenzied thoughts and she couldn’t decipher any of its instructions yet.  She dropped the sword handle and took his face in her hands, whispering frantically to him, “Quinlan … _Quinlan … **Quintus**_!”  When she received no response, she reached out and placed her palm against his chest and felt it heaving still.  She looked up again as she pulled the gun from his loose grip and looked upwards.

_Blood.  Right._

The voice was now becoming clearer as she stood.

> 
>     “The gladiator disabled the rifle, but he still has a side arm.  If you are fast enough, it may not matter.  GO NOW!”

When she moved up the stairs, she hugged the wall, coming up stealthily and she was able to glimpse him laying across the landing pulling at his rifle furiously.  Once he saw her out of the corner of his eye, he grabbed for the handgun.

The voice had been prepping her for what would happen next in her quiet trek up the steps.

> 
>     “The kick back will be substantial, you won’t be able to control it.  Lock your arms, find a good forward stance and try to drive the force upwards rather than sideways.  Aim very low, at least three feet on the ground in front of him.  It’s fully automatic, hold the trigger down and just spray.”

Once the trigger was depressed, it’s force was more than she was already trying to prepare herself for, the first bullet hit low and as the gun vibrated violently in her hand, she brought the force upwards and several of the bullets riddled the man as he was reaching for the extra weapon.

She was unable to stop the gun from firing before it knocked her back and against the wall, as she shot the wall up and over man and the bottom of the landing above until it had expended its magazine fully.

“ _Holy fuck._ ”  She pulled herself together quickly and went for the body, tossing the spent gun to the side as she kicked the pistol away and knelt at the twitching man, blood flowing out onto the ground beneath him.

“ _Please_ ,” he begged as he clutched at a hole in his chest, “ _Please … my family_ ….”

“ _And … what about **my** family_?”  She barked at him as she surveyed the wounds she had just inflicted.  She had two options right now.  She could bring Quintus to the man, or she could bring the man to Quintus.  She knew there was little chance, with her shoulder in its current condition, that she wouldn’t be able to pull the dhampir _up_ the stairs, but she could definitely drag this asshole _down_.  So, she grabbed his arm as she furiously attempted to move him to the edge of the stairs causing her own wound to surge and scream in agony.

“ _Fuck_!”  She screamed again as she bit her lower lip, using her legs to pull the man over the edge with his two arms and began to yank him brutally down the steps, keeping his head raised.

“ _Hurry … HURRY._ ”  She commanded herself and jerked him in a frenzied panic down the two landings between him and the injured dhampir.  Quintus was still in his seated position, with his legs spread out before him, his head tilted and resting to the right. His eyes still closed.  Her desperate heart raced for a moment in pure dismay as she thought she didn’t see him breathing any longer, but his chest still heaved with mini breaths.

Relief spread over her until she turned back to the man, whose eyes were now wide open and no longer moved at all.  She’d seen that glassy stare before and his chest no longer heaved with any breath.

“ _NO no no no no …_ ”  she chanted to herself as she flipped him over to his back and began to push on his chest with her little palms to restart his heart.

> 
>     “It will do no good.  He is already gone.”

So be it, she said to herself mercilessly and she tried to pull the man over to the unconscious dhampir closer, “Quintus … open your eyes … _QUINTUS_!  You’ve got to drink … **_QUINTUS_**!  Please … _Please_.”  She could not longer hold back the tears that had been abated by her adrenaline; they freely flowed.

She found a knife in the man’s belt and pulled it out, cutting into the dead man’s wrist quickly and trying to hold it up to Quintus’ mouth, but the lack of a pumping heart caused the blood to remain where it was, trapped inside the man’s arteries.  She tried to pull the arm up, perhaps gravity would help her, but she couldn’t hold his up, he was large and she was small and wounded.  The blood remained inside of him.

“ _Fuck … fuck fuck fuck_.”  She chanted again as she released the arm and went back to grasping the dhampir’s face in both of her hands, pleading with him, “ _Please wake up._ Please _._ ”

The voice was solemn in its tone.

> 
>     “You need to start moving.  Take the sidearm.  I’m sure they have heard the noises by now.”

Dawn remained crouched in front of Quintus, his face still in her hands, and the voice pleaded.

> 
>     “ _ **Please** My Child_ … you have to move.  I’m sorry.  He’s _already_ fading.  He’s _already_ lost.  I can feel him beginning to _cross_ –”

“Fuck that … and _fuck you_.”  She hissed sharply as she jerked Quintus back from the wall and pulled his back against her chest, letting his limp head fall against her shoulder.

She knew the voice was still speaking, but she didn’t listen any longer and for the second time since she had first started to hear it, she completely ignored its advice as she used her uninjured arm and her mouth to detach the belt that Quintus had affixed to her.  The rush of blood to her arm was immediate and she felt it began to trickle out of her deep cut.  It was obvious that it had nicked an artery or vein of some kind.  Good.  Her heart still beat and it would pump the blood out of the wound into him.

> 
>           _“NO.  NO!!!  You’ve already lost too much.  You cannot save him.  Oh god … **please**!   **DO NOT DO–** ”_
>         

She pushed her shoulder to his mouth as she pulled his jaw open, tipping his face to receive the liquid that now poured freely from her.  He made no motion initially and she thought her efforts were for naught until his right arm twitched several times and his left immediately came up and grabbed at what was feeding him, gripping her arm tightly as his body twisted itself to consume more.

And all at once, Quintus’ body suddenly came alive while his eyes remained shut.  His strigoi anatomy triggered into survival mode as the blood swam into him and she was shocked as his body spun fully around to face her, gripping her savagely in his preternatural strength as she saw the stinger emerge and lock onto her wound without hesitation, causing her to whimper again as his body made vicious and quick pulls of her blood.

“ _Quintus_ …”  She attempted but found herself weakening even faster than the first time he had embraced her and she just watched, as everything blurred and swayed around her.

And oh god, her heart … it was beating so fast now.  She hoped she would lose consciousness soon.  It … it would be a mercy.  She was so _tired_.  So very, very _tired_ of running … of surviving … of _this_.  She was so tired of all the _pain_ , of all of the _rejection_ … of being _alone_.   _His life … his destiny … his purpose … was so much more important than …_

Everything dimmed as she looked at his face and she saw his eyes eventually begin to flutter open and his brow furrowed as he ripped himself out of her and she heard him speaking to her, _**no** … screaming at her_ , but she didn’t know what he was saying anymore.  It was distant and foggy and the sounds were muffled.

She mustered all of the strength that remained and raised her index and middle finger to his cheek, touching the scar that ran down the left side of his face, smiling at him, before succumbing to unconsciousness fully.


	84. 12.6 - Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 

Fet listened intently at the door again, pushing his ear up flat against the cold metal and hushing everyone sharply with his waving hand.  He was sure he’d heard it before and now he was nearly positive as he started to unlocked the door hurriedly.

“What the hell are you doing?”  Ephraim screamed from across the room and started to stand from his seated position on the cold concrete floor to halt the man.

“You don’t _hear_ dat?!”  Fet screamed back the moment that he flung the door back and barrelled up the spiral stairs of the hidden _safehold_.

“The only thing I _bloody_ hear is water!”  Dutch offered from her own position on the floor.  The sprinkling that had occurred earlier in the evening had turned into torrential downpour, and the bunker being situated next to the storm drain and sewer to make use of its gravity for electricity created a noise that almost torturous to them.

Fet continued his path up the stairs, undeterred by the Doctor’s pleas from below.  Ephraim stepped forward through the doorway and screamed upwards in another attempt to stop him, “Fet, wait!”

But it was already too late, the big man was out of sight and they heard him open the remaining door above and enter into the rain outdoors.  Scrambling to her feet, Dutch shouted to Gus and Ephraim, “Don’t just let him go alone!!”

The Boxer leapt up to comply to the Hacker’s concerned plea and Ephraim quickly followed, but they were completely unprepared for what they witnessed as they breached the outer door and hit the pouring rain outside.  Fet was correct, he had heard something as he turned back to them and pointed up into the air while trying to pull his hood up and over his head to shield himself from the rain.

“I told you!!”  He screamed and the sound of the small chopper was easily discernible from the rain now and as Dutch joined them from behind, the four watched in silent awe as the miniature aircraft touched down perfectly a mere ten feet from their location with a familiar figure in the pilot seat.

“Where _the fuck_ did he get a _helicopter_?!”  Dutch questioned, but no one offered even the slightest speculation.

The door flung open wildly and the figure sprang from its confines with inhuman speed, carrying something limp in his arms.  As he bounded towards them, he was calling out and the entire scene was all too familiar to all who watched.

_“Dr. Goodweather!!”_  He bellowed as he ran towards them.  Everything about this was now eerily similar to the last time he carried something to the good _Doctor_.

“ _Doctor_ ,”  His voice was uncharacteristically frantic again, “she has lost a great deal of blood.”  He was now standing in front of the bald man, presenting the precious little thing that he was so carefully cradling.  He had wrapped his coat around her and he pulled the hood back from her face, exposing her to the _Doctor_ ’s scrutiny.

Ephraim’s eyes grew wide and his training immediately kicked in, “How much blood loss?”

And, just as the first time this had occurred, Quinlan’s first response was not overly helpful, “ _Too much_.”  He conveyed a hint of underlying shame again with his answer.  

Dutch finally realized what was occurring as she tried to sneak a peek beyond Fet’s towering shoulders.  “Wait … you found her?! _She’s alive_?!”  She gasped.

“Not for long.”  Quinlan answered as he quickly moved past the idle humans and down the stairs, into the dry, concrete bunker beneath.  He laid the limp body down on the cot in the first room and moved back so the Doctor could assess the situation.

“How long has she been like this?”  Ephraim pulled back her eyelids and snapped his fingers toward the flashlight that he knew Fet had clipped to his belt.  He complied and tossed it into the Doctor’s demanding hand.

“At least twenty minutes … I think … I am … _unsure_.”  Quinlan attempted to step forward to the woman again, but stepped back as Ephraim pushed him back.  His voice quivered with every syllable he uttered.

“ _Whoa_ man … What the fuck happened to you??”  Gus questioned as he finally got a good view of the dhampir’s shredded clothing from behind, but Quinlan ignored the query.  His attention was elsewhere.

“Q … She’s not responsive … “  Ephraim had checked her eyes, which showed no dilation and then he checked her neck for a pulse, then attempted to find one on her wrist, “There …”  He sighed heavily before continuing, “isn’t a heartbeat.  She’s already gone …”

“Her heart beats still, I assure you.”  Quinlan’s voice was now barely a whisper as he stared down toward the woman.  He could hear the faintest sound of the beat, even if the Doctor wasn’t able to detect it and he could hear her chest expand and collapse, ever so briefly.

“ _Jesus Christ_ …” Ephraim gasped, his voice trailing off at the end of his statement as he pulled the coat open and surveyed the bleeding wound on the woman’s shoulder and the belt that was being used as a tourniquet above it.  “I …”  He trailed off yet again and he attempted to rock away from the woman to stand, “ _I’m sorry Q._ ”

However his movement was halted by the strong hands now pressing down on his shoulders, preventing him from leaving her side.  “ ** _Please_** , Doctor.”

Ephraim raised his hands in complete defeat and attempted to back away yet again. This time the dhampir released him as he stood to face him, “There’s _nothing_ I … **_we_** … can do.  Even if I could stop the bleeding, we have no IV kits here, no way to give her a blood transfusion.  Even if she _was_ responsive, there is no way we can give her more blood.  There’s _nothing_ I can do.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan stared at the ground for a moment as the Doctor’s words began to sink into place.  He was _not_ shocked as he thought this would be the case.  He’d seen this state in many humans over his many years.  So many times, generally when he had drunk them beyond the point of death, past recoverable hypovolemic shock, when the heart is no longer racing to maintain oxygen flow to the brain, when it is just barely beating and the brain is ready die.

He had no idea how much blood he had taken but he knew he had completely gorged himself on her again.  He could feel her coursing through his body, healing him at a rate that was not normal for _human_ blood, but she wasn’t entirely _human_ , was she?  He’d dismissed how quickly it had healed him before, but it was painfully obvious now.

When he had opened his eyes and discovered his arms clamped down onto her small body and found himself taking from her with viciously fast pulls and without any kind of mercy.  His body had sprung into action to save itself and she had been there.  He had no idea what had occurred after he passed out, but the soldier was dead and lying next to him, riddled with bullet holes and he assumed that he had _attacked_ her … again.  He was overwhelmed with shame and anger.  He felt more like an _animal_ than he ever had before.  He was _Monster_.

But, he had expected _this_.  He had not flown here with the intention of having the _Doctor_ fix what he had done again.  It was too late for that.  He licked his lips briefly as he could still taste her and this made him rattle intensely the moment before he turned to face the old man who had been standing conspicuously quiet against the far back wall.  This was particularly unusual for the _Professor_ , but he had no time to ponder that at this moment.

“The _White_.”  Quinlan demanded of him, plainly and succinctly.

Abraham made no move for compliance and he took a step towards him as Ephraim questioned quickly from behind, “What _white_?”

Fet could easily read the mannerisms of the Professor’s noncompliance and he made a step to bring his towering frame between the old man and the dhampir, however he was far from fast enough and Quinlan had already closed the distance between the two of them.

“Professor, the **_White_**.   _Now_.”  He felt the rumble after he had spoken.

##     “Don’t.”

Quinlan twitched slightly in an attempt to dissuade the voice and Abraham looked dismayed for a moment and attempted to argue, “Mr. Quin–”

“ _Do not delay … **The White.**_ ”  Quinlan’s mood was quickly degrading from frantic to angry at each second the the Professor refused to comply and the voice pleaded with him in the background.

##     “Please.”

“Mr. Quinlan, **_this_** is not–”  Abraham attempted and Quinlan reached for him, grabbing his shirt quickly in his tight, prenatural fist as he began to pull the old man towards him fiercely, bringing them face to face and closer than either one had ever been to the other.

“ ** _Professor_** –”  He started as he felt the Exterminator start to touch his shoulder and Quinlan retained his grip on the old man’s shirt as he pushed the mountain of a man across the room with his free arm in one smooth glorious sweeping thrust of his palm.  Gus moved quickly to help Fet clamour back to his feet after violently connecting with the brick wall across the room.

Dutch screamed as she ran to Fet “ ** _OY_**!  Let’s all chill _out_!!”

##     “Don’t do this.”

Ephraim’s question overlapped Dutch’s scream, “ _What FUCKING **white**_?!”

Quinlan never turned from Setrakian and now he pulled him even closer with a face full of vicious intent, “This is **_not_** a request, _Abraham_.”

 

The old man sighed heavily, bringing his hand up between them in a surrendering manner as he reached into his coat pocket, withdrawing and exposing a half full vile of liquid and a dropper.  Quinlan quickly snatched the pair from his old and trembling hand, releasing the grip on his shirt which caused Abraham to stumble back against the wall.

He turned back to the direction of the cot and shoved the Doctor to the side with more force than was necessary as he knelt, pulling his gloves off as he began to open the vial quickly with his own trembling fingers.  He knew she should have been dead already, but he could hear that precious little beat still progressing defiantly as it refused to succumb … _even now_.

“Mr. Quinlan, this isn’t a fate I would wish on _anyone_.”  He tried as the dhampir pushed the dropper into the bottle and filled it with the opaque white liquid.

##  _“I beg you …”_

“She will require it for the rest of her life … And it may already be too late … there may not be any part of her left …”  He tried again as the dhampir tilted her head back gently by pushing up her chin and split her first eyelid open with his shaking fingers.

##  _“Let her die.”_

“And when you defeat the _Master_ … there will be no _white_ left to harvest … it will mark the end of her life …”

##  **_“Let her die.”_ **

“ ** _Never_**.”  Quinlan hissed into thin air as he dropped the liquid in her first eye and opened her second, repeating the action.

##  “Foolish boy–”

The voice cut off sharply as Quinlan heard a noise of such volume it caused him to bring his hands to his temples and grab his head in a vain attempt to halt the vibrations that ripped mercilessly through his mind.  He could feel the resonance that was building and the feedback that he knew he himself was causing … through her.

He shut his eyes tightly as he reeled back from the pain and only opened them when he smelled the scent of fire and ash and he stared down at its origin, her wrist, as the reddish birthmark became more than just an outline that resembled the symbol Quinlan had seen on the paper, now the entire seal was perfectly visible in a hot ember that seemed to burn itself away in a fiery glow as it faded to a simple smoke that disappeared into the air.  The noise abated at all once.

Quinlan brushed the wet hair that clung to her face away and wiped the liquid that had overflowed from her eyes and onto her cheeks with his thumb as he waited for something … for _anything_ … for _any_ sign that it had had _some_ effect on her.  No one moved a muscle behind him and just when he was sure it had not worked and he had placed his forehead to her hand which he clutched desperately within both of his, just when he attempted to fight all emotions that would escape regardless of his desires to keep them caged within … he heard her heart beat stronger.

Had it been his imagination?  He looked optimistically to her face again, touching her cheek with his hand and listened carefully as it beat stronger yet again.   _Yes_.  He could hear the humans now asking questions around him.  Questions for him and for the Professor but he only focused on the beats and heard them progressively getting stronger and when he felt Ephraim’s hand on his shoulder, he pulled back and allowed the Doctor to examine her again.

“She’s … “  He started to say but for the first time since he had arrived back at the bunker, he was finally able to breath and it was then that he picked up that distinct scent.  He turned sharply and locked eyes with the old man, who was standing uncharacteristically still and silent against the far wall again.  Abraham nodded to him gently as he acknowledged meekly what Quinlan was slowly starting to realize.

He could smell _them_ and now … he could even hear them.  Swimming and multiplying underneath the old man’s skin and inside of his body.

 

* * *

 

> **Inspiration** : [Gabriel - Carlos Quevedo](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCkrhSsxnKO/?taken-by=carloseqo)

Michael felt the mind quake and he knew that they _all_ had heard it as well.  And as he placed the staff against the wall, taking a seat at his desk, he waited for the inevitable visits to begin.

He turned to his windows and stared out across the vastness again and spoke out loud now.

“I _know_ you are still there … always _watching_ … Is this my punishment for so many years of unfettered obedience?  Is this what it comes down to … Father?”  He knew he would receive no response, there had been no answer for over two thousand years now.  And shamefully, he wondered if this was how both of his brothers had felt before their … _fall_.

_Betrayed … alone … and defeated._

The knock was rushed, heavy and loud.  He breathed deeply yet again before inviting his younger brother in.  He assumed it would have been Raphael, as _he_ could sense the use of the staff better than the others, it was _his_ after all … but he found Gabriel staring back at him with his amber eyes wide and uncharacteristically concerned.

“Sir, there–”  The shorter blonde man started to say.

“ _I know_.  I felt it.”  He stood and began to walk towards the door.  He would need to address everyone and he was sure that they were gathering in the promenade now.  He could already hear all of the whispers accumulating across the veil.

## “There is an **Abomination** on Earth.”

 

* * *

  

“When did it occur?”  Quinlan stared away from Abraham as he questioned him.

“When we came to help you–”

“You were told to come straight here!!!”  His voice was full of anger and sadness.  He often forgot that the old man was younger than he, but at this moment, that condescension was apparent.

“There is no way we would have let you fight that fight alone, Mr. Quinlan.  We both know you were rushing to your death.  You had no intention of coming back alive.”

The rain had finally ceased and there were several hours of night remaining as they stood outside to obtain privacy for this delicate conversation.

“And now it seems _you_ were the one who rushed.”  Quinlan’s anger had faded and now only sadness remained in his voice.

“So it seems.”  The old man agreed.  The _white_ that course through his veins would slow the progression, but not halt it.  He had mere hours remaining now, before the _Master_ would take full control of him and his memories.

“Do the others know?”  Quinlan already knew that they did not.  The old man had kept this from them and he understood why.  He knew why Abraham had asked him to come outside with him.  There would be a _parlay_ first, before he knew the old man would request his services in dispatching him.  His friends always relied on him for this …

This … _courtesy_.

     This … _privilege_.

          This … _favour_.

“They do not.”

Quinlan nodded.  This would be hardest on him, as the others would be angry and blame _him_ for the old man’s desire to not say good bye.  He knew Vasily would hate him for what the old man was requesting of him now.

“I am sorry that I was not there …”  He offered, his voice was verging on quaking with the sadness that overflowed from it.

“Mr. Quinlan, I have lived nearly a hundred years and I’ve never needed you there before.  This is no one’s fault other than mine and his.  Besides, going off alone is what we _monomaniacal hunters_ do best, right?”  Abraham smiled wickedly and Quinlan nodded.

“But, we have some time, and I think we should speak before I return to my **_Miriam_**.”  Abraham said.  Quinlan locked eyes with him briefly as he had never heard _her_ name before and he understood.  Abraham was not one to easily share anything, it was something that they had in common.  “You still have much to do here, my friend.”

Abraham sat down on the small concrete pylon near the door to alleviate the stress the gravity was enacting on his sickened body before he started.

“ _The girl_ … Goodweather says there are some … _troubling_ things in her DNA report.”

Quinlan nodded, “Yes.  I would assume so.”

“Did you know?”

“I did not … not until today.  What did he find?”

“He _thinks_ that it’s _strigoi_ DNA.”

Quinlan tilted his head to the right and briefly grinned, “But you do not think it’s that?”

“You know what I think, Mr. Quinlan.  Do you think she is part … _strigoi_?”

“I do not.”  Quinlan knew there was nothing strigoi about her.  He knew there was something more _graceful_ about her.

“You recognized that mark … **_AMETAJISA ADAGITA PEREDAZODARE_** … _The Seal to Diminish_ … I saw it it on your face.   And whoever speaks to you knew it too.”

“Yes.  I could not place it at the time.”

Abraham pulled the papers that he had been hiding from within his coat and handed them to the dhampir.  He’d taken them from the table before they had parted the house for the last time, “They took the _Lumen_ , but they did not take these … here.”

Quinlan looked down at the pages from the old man as he continued to speak, “There was more to the translations before you dismissed me today.”

“What more?”

“I believe that she is _Born_.  Just as you are, but not the same.  She’s not _Fallen_.  She is nephilim … _born_ from _**PERIAZODA CASARMA ZODILADARE**._ ”  Abraham tapped the third page from the top and Quinlan flipped to it quickly, reading the translation of the Enochian out loud.

“ _Those Who Fly._ ”

“They are described as more _bird_ than man, and their children are born with a disadvantage … they have brittle bones.  Given what Goodweather said about her _condition_ , I believe it matches.”

Quinlan stared at the old man, “ _Brittle_?”

“Like a bird, Mr. Quinlan … hollow.   _Their children are called **The Broken**_.”

“My father was after her … he had been searching for–”

“I believe he was always searching for _nephilim_.  I believe that he sought out _Sardu_ **_because_** he was a giant and he thought he might have been born of the _**PERIAZODA CASARMA BERANUSAJI COREDAZODIZODA** … Those Who Guard Man.”_

“Those who caused the deluge.”

Abraham nodded, “ _The Giants_.”

“But why would he search for these beings?”  Quinlan asked but he did not really expect an answer.

“Here,” The old man pointed at the last page in the stack, “I translated this earlier today … _The Fallen_ will always crave their lost _divinity_.  Their lost connection.”  Quinlan cringed at this.  He could still taste her and even though he still didn’t care for the taste itself, he knew he had gotten lost so deep into her taste both times that it had nearly consumed him.

“When they fall, they lose all connection to their brethren and it drives them beyond the point of pure _madness_.  It is the most brutal punishment that an … ”  Abraham gulped before uttering the word that neither had wanted to voice fully yet, “… _angel_ can be forced to endure.   _The Fall_.”

Quinlan shook his head, “No … there must be more to it than _this_ … the _Master_ was _hurting_ her to send a message to someone …  You believe it was one of these … _Bird Beings_?”

Abraham thought for a moment, carefully, “I don’t know, Mr. Quinlan.  But, I do know that no _nephilim_ is allowed to live.  By their own laws, the children are immediately _cleansed_ from the world and the perpetrating father is _felled_ and then burned to death with divine fire.”

“She said that the _Master_ said it was so _HE_ would know that they knew she existed.  If there really was a truce, then would these beings have not come to assistance or punishment in some way?  I believe … she was _leverage_ , _Professor_.  The voice begged me to let her die below … ”

“Then he had to know … what would happen.”

Quinlan looked at him, “And what happened exactly?”

Abraham pointed to the last page yet again, “Only the blood of an Archangel can bind … and … _unbind_ an Angel.  The white is your father’s blood, Quintus … And your father _is_ part of an archangel.  The fifth of the first brothers, created even before man … You _unbound_ her.”

“But, what does that mean for her now?  What have I done to her?”

“I don’t know.  This is all just wild _speculation_ on my part.  Now I just get to lob wild ideas at you and have you sort them out after I’m gone.”  The old man chuckled and slapped the dhampir on his shoulder.  For someone who was about to die, he seemed to be in high spirits, but Quinlan knew why.  He was tired and he was eager to see his love once more.  Quinlan knew _that_ feeling, although he hadn’t felt it in some time now.  He was no longer tired nor eager to leave this world behind.

“That’s all I know, Quintus.”  This was the last time the _Professor_ would ever use his given name.  “Now … I would offer some advice before I am … _released_.”

Quinlan tilted his head to the right, “What advice might that be, _Abraham_.”

The old man pulled the sword and sheath from his belt and handed it to the dhampir, “ ** _Do not let vengeance cloud your vision._** ”

“Trust me, _Professor_ , I do not–”

Abraham interrupted. “There are only two things that I have felt that are stronger than my need for vengeance and justice.  The first is easy to guess: **_Love_**.  The other, however, is even more sinister than the need for _vengeance_ itself … the other taints in a way that is more wicked than any amount of hatred I have **_ever_** felt … that is **_Regret_**.”

“There is a day that I think about often.  Shkoder, Albania … 1967.  The day that _he_ took _her_ from me.  She asked me _not_ to go, but I ignored her.  I let my _vengeance_ cloud my _vision_ that day.  Vengeance for people who were long gone, taken from me by _him_.”  The old man’s voice was ripe with _regret_ , “And the toll that **_that_** obsession took on _her life_ should have been more than I could have beared.  The **_sacrifices_** that she made for **_my vengeance_** … “

His voice trailed off and Quinlan attempted to halt the conversation, “ _Professor_ , the vengeance that I seek is the same as you–”

“No, _Mr. Quinlan_.  You are failing to understand me.  I promised her that when it was finished, we would settle down in peace … but what I **_failed_** to understand back then was that I already had peace … at _that_ moment … with her … it was within my grasp … and I threw it away.”

Abraham continued, “If I could go back to a single moment in my life, in my near one hundred years, it would be back to _that_ moment … when I chose revenge over love.  And it was only _after_ she was gone, that I realized _she had meant more to me than any of those whom I had longed to avenge_.”

Quinlan asked blankly, his question ripe with disbelief, “You would have me believe that you would have given up your hunt for the _Master_ for a **_woman_** , _Professor_?”

Abraham smiled larger than Quinlan had ever seen, ”For **_that_** woman, Mr. Quinlan?  Yes.  In a heartbeat.  The advice that I offer to you is not to let vengeance cloud your chance for happiness.  You have been a changed man since you came back from the factory that night … and regret … regret is a _terrible_ thing.”

Quinlan looked down at the blade in his hands and Abraham turned his back to his friend quietly spinning on the pylon, “Will you at least say goodbye to them?  You still have some time.”  He asked of the old man.

“I don’t like goodbyes, Mr. Quinlan.  Take care of them and give that son of a bitch hell for me.”

“Very well.   ** _You are a true friend, Abraham_**.”  He said as the old man reminded him of Decimus so much at this very moment.

So clear and so unafraid of what came next. 

 


	85. Interlude 9 - Choices

# Interlude 9 - Choices

> _Dancing scars from long nights_  
>  I’ve been bruised by your light  
>  Help me now, lonely lover  
>  Show me how to uncover  
> 
> 
> _Days of darkness make me smile_  
>  No one’s safe here for a while

It wasn’t really darkness.  Not exactly, it was more like a kind of pure blackness surrounding her now.  At first she assumed it was a lack of light, but she looked down at her open palms and could see them with absolute clarity.  It was everything else around her that was simply empty.

> “There are over three thousand species of **_Anisoptera_** on the planet, 348 genera in 11 families.”

She knew that voice … it belonged to Ellie … She knew this wasn’t right and now she struggled to remember where she _had just_ been.  The last thing that she recalled before she was standing here was staring into his troubled face, his furrowed brow and his trembling eyes.

_Ah yes_ … that’s right … she had been in his arms.  He had been saying something … _screaming_ something, but she couldn’t hear him anymore, she couldn’t hear anything anymore except for Ellie’s voice in this black place.  It had been quite distant at first, but now it seemed louder; with each sentence, it seemed clearer and full of pride.

> “An adult’s compound eye has nearly 24,000 ommatidia.  That’s one hell of an amazing eye.  Imagine the things that you could see with that sucker.”

She remembered this conversation now and as suddenly as she had been overcome with nothingness, she was immediately sitting at the concrete table staring across to her friend.  They were back in college, eating lunch and discussing … what was it again?   ** _Anisoptera_**?

> “They spend most of their lives as nymphs, undergoing several incomplete **_metamorphosis of varying stages_** before they finally emerge as one of nature’s most **_perfect predators_**.  Did you know they are found on every single continent _except_ for Antarctica?  That’s damn impressive.”

She blinked at her friend as she stared back at her.  She was still holding the stale tuna sandwich she had just purchased from the student co-op center and she took another reluctant bite of it as her friend rattled off more trivial and pointless information.

> “In Europe, they were considered pretty sinister.  They were known as the _Devil’s Darning Needle._  And some thought they had the ability to weigh **_people’s souls_** … to see their sins.”

“I’m not sure if that’s the type of information they’ll be looking for, Ells.”  She offered her friend some advice as she stared down at her returned exam, taking another bite of that terrible sandwich.  It was terrible yes, but she now loved the taste of it.  It wasn’t _dehydrated_ after all.  It was “fresh”, back from before the world was _fucked_.

> “To the Welsh, they are known as the ** _Adder’s Servant_**.  They are said to follow snakes.”

Her friend shrugged off her suggestion, “It will be a comprehensive report.”  And she continued to rattle off something that really shouldn’t find its way into her Evolutionary Biology thesis.  What were they talking about again and why was she here, at this point in time now, reciting the same conversation she’d had with her friend over eight years prior?

> “But to the _Japanese_ , they are symbols of courage, strength, and **_happiness_**.”

She stared back at her as the final word repeated itself in her mind … _happiness_.  The sandwich was absolutely delicious now and she looked down at the failed exam again, placing her head in her hands.  She remembered this day clearer now.

> “In Southern American Lore, they are known as _snake doctors_.  They are believed to follow snakes around to mend them and provide aid when needed.  Huh … two absolutely unique cultures associate them with **_serpents_**.”

_**Serpents**_ …

This was the day that she changed her major from Botany to Mathematics.  It was one of the few days that _she had made the choice to surrender_ to some type of failure and the realization of that fact had brought her great sorrow.

> “To the _Cheyenne_ , they were a warning of impending danger from enemies.”

She’d gotten sick and blew the exam entirely.  Actually … Ellie had gotten her sick, but she didn’t blame her.  But this class was a core class for her desired major and she couldn’t just retake it.  It was only offered in the springtime and it was a prerequisite for _all_ of her other classes.

> “ _Native Americans_ throughout the Great Plains used their imagery during battle because of their quickness and difficulty to kill … always able to dart about and **_evade capture_**.”

She would have been forced to stay in school for another year entirely.  That, _simply_ , was not acceptable.  She was good at _math_ after all and she was already accelerated on that path due to the college classes she took in high school.

> “The _Dakota_ claimed it has the ability to avoid all danger.  Man, Animal, and even **_thunder_** _being unable to hurt it_.”

She looked at Eleanor again and missed her greatly.  She had always been a wealth of strength for her, even when she was being pig headed, as she was now.  She knew that Ellie’s thesis would be too rooted in theology for her biology teacher to enjoy and as such, she would wind up leaving school without finishing.  She could tell her now, but she _knew_ this was just a **_memory_**.  None of this mattered anymore … did it?

> “As a creature of the **_Wind_** , they represent _change_ or metamorphosis… _the perspective of self realization_.  It is said to arrive in your life when you are called upon to **_transform and evolve_**.”

“I guess that is the theme of the day then … time to _transform_.”  She frowned and stared down at the test yet again.  Her friend frowned too but continued anyways.  She was on a mission to teach her about … What the hell was it again?   ** _Anisoptera_**?

> “As a creature of the **_Water_** , they represent the subconscious … **_the dreaming mind._** ”

She had brown hair and a beautifully clear and tan complexion that fit her overly thin body.  She’d always been jealous of Ellie’s even skin tone as her own freckles had often made her feel out of place, especially when she refused to adhere to modern standards and add layers of makeup to hide her imperfect skin in shame.

> “They carry insight into our deeper thoughts and **_deepest desires_**.”

“Can they tell me if I really want to be a _Mathematician_?”  She pondered out loud and her friend ignored her question completely, continuing on with the subject at hand.

> “It is the harbinger of our **_dreams_** , understanding our _real capabilities_ and giving us the ability to _accomplish our birthright_.”

Eleanor was always an optimist, even her name implied it.  It was Greek for “bright, shining one."  She’d never known her real Russian family and she was forever grateful for the family that had adopted her here in the States when she was only three years old.

Dawn looked down at the flip phone that jingled on the table, indicating a new text message and giggled to herself as she remembered the pre-smartphone days.  She looked down at the message from _him_ , pleading for her to see him that day.  She’d ignored him the last 2 days.

“Is that the _ass_?”  Ells questioned.

“He’s not an _ass_.”

“Yeah he is … He said you were a 6 out of 10.  That’s a D … **_he gave you a D_**.”

“I shouldn’t have asked, but at least he was honest.  And it was a 6.5.”

“ _Whatever_ , he’s an _ass_.  You deserve somebody who thinks you’re a 10 or fuck, an 8.75 at the very least.”  Ells finalized her opinion of him right then and there.   After this point in time, there was no changing this mindset.

“So, you are basically telling me I deserve to be alone?  Besides, _**you** are the one who set me up him_!”

“Yeah, I know.   _I’m sorry_.  You deserve better.  You do.  But, he’s … “  She seemed like she wasn’t sure exactly how she wanted to finish that statement and suddenly, Dawn could hear the word that Ells had wanted to say at that moment … she hadn’t heard it the first time, but now she did … _necessary_?  Was that even right?  But, he’s … _necessary_.  Ellie let the sentence trail off as she decided to continue on with her lesson.

> “For the _Navajo_ , they represent pure water.”

Ellie hadn’t really _talked_ her into changing her major, but she had made her realize it was the right choice.  It would be easier to find a job as well.  Dawn considered **_this choice_** , at **_this very moment_** , and the impact that it had had on the future.  When she had nearly walked out of their lives entirely, when she had nearly walked away from them … _from **him** … from Quintus_ … that day.

> “It was used as the emblem of the _Mayan_ goddess of creativity, _Ix Chel._  Their myth says its wings and songs revived her after she is _almost slain_.”

“What about the _Cherokee_?”  She questioned her.  That was something her and Ells had in common, their ignorance of their backgrounds.  She’d never known her father but her mom had claimed some kind of link through him to the _Cherokee_ , while Ellie had no idea what her race even was.  She was at least half Caucasian, that much was certain, but there was something a bit darker mixed in.  She’d always been envious of her ability to actually tan.  Dawn always thought she was pretty, but neither of them really met _that_ definition in society’s eyes.  

> “I don’t know about the _Cherokee_ , but to the **_Iroquois_** , it is considered a **_messenger_** … _of the Great Spirit itself._ ”

She thought back to this day and wondered again why it was of importance as she devoured the final bit of her stale sandwich with glee.  And as she swallowed the last bit of it … she remembered as Ellie spoke again.

> “Libelle, Pipilacha, Libellule, **_Libellula_** ”

“What?”  She sharply turned her attention back to her rambling friend, “What did you just say?”

“Huh?”  Her confusion was sincere, “About what?”

“What did you _just_ say?”  She pushed again, her eyes were wide.  She remembered _that word_.  He’d called her _that word._

“They are just translations.”  Ellie blew off her question, which required her to ask again, raising her own level of annoyance.

“What was the _last one_?”  She demanded harshly.

“ ** _Libellula_**.  Its _Latin_.”

“Latin for _what_?”  She already knew it was Latin and she pushed again.

“What do you mean … _for what_?  Have you not been paying attention to anything that I’ve been saying?”  While her words implied annoyance, her face showed the complete opposite.  Ellie seemed to be smiling now, “ ** _Anisoptera_**.”

Dawn sighed heavily and she stared at her and furrowed her brows, “Ells … _Please_.”  She begged.

And her friend’s smile widened, “ _ **Anisoptera** _ is _an infraorder_ of _Odonata …_ the _**Dragonfly**._ ”

Dawn blinked at this and realized _why_ she was remembering it.  It was his final word to her, the final parting gift he’d given her before he left her and started to fade.  The last thing that she had heard from his lips before it had become her turn to … _fade_.

_She was dying … again … in his arms._  All things considered, this wasn’t a bad way to go.  She wouldn’t have wanted to die _anywhere_ else, she suddenly realized.  But this revelation actually made her feel like a fucking _fool_ and there was a great swell of shame that followed her foolish feelings.  How _amazingly pathetic_ she felt at this very moment … pining over a man who is already _eternally_ in love with someone else … She pushed his image from her mind completely forcefully to turn it off.  This weakness disgusted her.

“ _No_ … “  Ells shook her head as she already seemed to know what was happening within Dawn’s psyche, “Your feelings _do not_ make you weak … and turning them off will _not_ make you strong.  Your **_empathy_** is what sets you apart from all of those around you.  Your capacity for love is what _makes_ you more powerful than they can imagine.”

Dawn stared down towards her empty hands and felt the tears begin to well up within her eyes as Ells spoke again.

“ _I’m sorry_ that its been difficult.  I’m sorry that you’ve had to _suffer_ to get to where you are now.  But know that you are not the only one who has had to _endure pain_.  I told you that you deserved better … the very _very_ best … but you’ll need to be open to it … **Fear** makes us all **say** stupid things.  Don’t let yesterday destroy tomorrow.  _Yesterday is dead_.”

Looking back into her friend’s eyes, she found Ells was smiling even wider now, “ _Why_?”  She asked, “ _Why_ are you telling me all of this now?”

“Because you need to **_hear_** it.”

“But why _**Anisoptera**_?”

Ellie spoke confidently, “Because you needed to **_remember_** it.”

“For what purpose?”  She questioned, “I don’t _need_ to remember anything anymore.  I get to _end_ now, don’t I?”

“This is only your _end_ if you wish it … And we both know that you _don’t_.  You _can’t_.  You aren’t wired that way.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.  I gave up … I gave him

**_my life_ **

.”  She stated to Ellie.

“No, you gave him a **_choice_**.  He’s been given this same **_choice_** before.”  Her smile was brilliant, “And he has already made it, as _we_ knew he would … now it’s up to you again … it’s your **_choice_** …”

_We?_

“What **_choice_** … what **_choice_** could I possibly have now?”  She was grabbing at straws when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.  She turned to face its owner, as she looked up to a woman, younger than she was _now_ with beautiful dark skin with darker hair, a slender face with beautiful and bewitching brown and amber eyes.  Dawn’s eyes grew wide when she spoke because it was _her_ voice … it was … _holy shit_ … **_that_** voice.

“Whether you will _fade_ … or whether you will _transform_ , **_Libellula_**.”

 

## And everything faded …

##           _into a blinding and painful white._

  



	86. 13.1 - Repercussions

##  **Part 1**

> _I’m desperate to run, I’m desperate to leave  
>  If I lose it all, at least I’ll be free_

[Sleep paralysis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis), as she understood it, is when your mind awakens, but your body doesn’t.  She’d experienced this many times over the course of her life, awakening and being completely unable to move.  On some occasions, her eyes would be open and on other occasions they would be shut.  She’d read that normally it was a brief experience, but when it happened to her, she was sure that was never the case.

At one point in time, she’d been half asleep and had an entire conversation with someone who stood just off to the side of her view.  After she had awoken, she was certain that it had just been a very, very vivid dream.  And the last time it had occurred was when she was on their couch and Quintus was patiently watching over her, awaiting her awakening.

_Oh no … Quintus …_

The first time it had occurred, it really was a terrifying experience, but when she learned how to control it, it became less frightening and simply more _inconvenient_.  One would need to wake their own body out of this state, and she would always start with the very tips of her toes or fingers, jiggling and wiggling as much as she could and then moving outward from there.

_Where is Quint–_

She heard movement but her eyes were still closed.  Hands touched her body, but she couldn’t react.  Normally, she would not panic, but none of the voices were familiar and once they had retreated, she began to work on her appendages slowly, wiggling and enticing them back to the conscious forefront.

“Who the hell left this _damn_ window open again?”  It was a gruff male voice.

“It wasn’t me, and I don’t think it was Darla, she was on shift last night.  She hates the cold.”  The other voice was almost as gruff but also feminine.

“Well … _someone_ is doing it, and it can only be one of the three of us.”  The voices eventually stopped their prodding on her body and departed her perception.

When she finally managed to get her eyes to open, the brightness of the room was painful and she closed them again tightly.   _Ugh_.  Slowly … This time, as she began to open them, it was only a sliver at first, letting them adjust to the sudden influx of light.

She was in a small room of a … tent of some kind, but she was unable to move her head yet and she began to focus on those muscles next.  As she turned her head from side to side, she was hoping that _he_ would be sitting there, however she found herself completely alone.   _Shit_.

> 
>          “Well … all things considered … it could have been worse.  We could have been _Duct taped_.”

She was on a cot and she felt things taped to her face as she slowly realized that swallowing was a … _oh god_ … something was inside of her throat.

_Fuck this world._

There was also an IV that she could see and suddenly she felt fully awake.  Reaching up to her face, she felt the tube that was taped to her cheek which was fished inside of her left nostril and she knew it went down her throat.

_Oh my god …_

She took a deep breath as she felt around at the tube and reluctantly pulled the tape free and began to pull it _slowly_ out of her.  She told herself to pull it out fast, but she couldn’t and the gag reflex was impossible to deny as she doubled over the side of the bed as the vomit flowed.

_Oh for fucks sake …_

It was all _liquid_ and she knew why.  They’d been feeding her through this _fucking_ tube.  Once it was fully removed, she threw it across the room with anger.

_Fuck that thing!_

Her nose was bleeding, she felt the liquid coming down and she held her lips tightly closed as the blood dripped down over them and over the edge of her chin.  Her throat burned from rawness, but she would be undeterred.  She had to find everyone and she needed to take advantage of the fact that they had not restrained her in her former state.  Next she ripped the IV from her arm.  She shuddered as she pulled it free and threw it to the side.

_Fuck that thing too!_

She attempted to stand as she realized there was yet another tube attached to her.   _Oh fuck_ , it was running up inside of her and she stood before she attempted to tug on it and it seemed to be stuck.  Immense embarrassment ran over her and she looked at the two tubes that run out of her nether regions and the bag on the bed that they were attached to.

In a fit of panic, she ripped both of the cords from from their other ends and decided that she would need to run and worry about removing them later, however once she had disabled the tube from the machine, she felt both tubes give way.  She quickly pulled them from her body, dropping them aimlessly to the floor.

_Fucking hell._

Even as her head swam, she surveyed the room for any possible weapon and when none were apparent, she pulled the longest part of the IV free from its base and decided that she might be able to use it as a poor man’s staff if needed.  She swung it once to get its weight and decided that she might be able to take out someone’s eye with it at the very least.

 

* * *

 

“You are gonna need to clean this everyda–”  Ephraim had started to explain to the soldier about his sutured wound when he heard the screaming from down the hall.  He dropped the clipboard on the bed and ran to the door, peering down the hallway as he saw the commotion at the corner, “Ah shit!”  He screamed before he ran to halt the impending confrontation, but he wasn’t fast enough.

“Don’t!”  She was screaming as she hit the male nurse in the face with her IV stand and the poor oaf of a man fell back against the cloth back wall as the other nurse attempted to grab her from behind, which resulted in her head butting him directly in the nose with the back of her skull.  She was successful and he released her quickly, stumbling back into the other cloth wall behind him.

Ephraim saw Dr. Rubinstein standing behind the third nurse, readying a syringe in her hand and he rushed forwards as Dawn raised the thin metal staff to hit the poor first nurse again as he was trying to regain his footing.

“Whoa whoa whoa!!!”  He screamed, pushing through the various patients who had exited their own rooms to witness the fight.  Dawn turned to the scream and suddenly relaxed her grip on her makeshift weapon.  All things considered, Ephraim thought it was pretty funny watching the tiny woman, clothed in nothing but a blue hospital gown and wielding nothing more than a thin piece of metal, floor the two huge men.

“Eph?!?”  She asked and he could see the utter relief roll over her face and then her body relaxed.  The two nurses who had regained their feet were _not_ relaxed though and Ephraim broken between them and his little friend.

“Yeah … yeah …”  He said as he gently put his hand on the metal staff, carefully pulling it out of her grip and grasping her tightly in an embrace.  He felt her relax further as she began to hug him back.

“It’s O.K. … “  He assured her … “ _You are O.K.  You are safe_ ,”  and he turned back to his old classmate who was still holding her syringe, ready to poke the woman at a moment’s notice.  He put his hand up asking for her to relax her grip on the needle that was, no doubt, filled with some kind of anesthetic.  He didn’t want to see what would happen if Rebecca tried to prick Dawn, however amusing that attempt might be.

He pulled back from her and looked at her face, “Let’s go back to your room … O.K.?”  and she nodded and he pulled her along the hallway of the makeshift tent until they were back where she had started her epic escape attempt and he waved towards her bed.  She slowly complied and sat down as he surveyed the medical equipment that she had tossed about haphazardly.

“Where are we?”  She questioned immediately.

“[Fort Detrick](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Detrick).”  He said as he sat on the bed beside her and began to check her vitals.

“Oh-kay … where is _that_?”

“ _Maryland_.”

“Why are we here?  Where is _everyone_ else?”  He already knew who she was asking about.

“It’s a medical command installation for the Army.”  She placed her hand on his and pushed it down from its prodding on her pulse.

“Eph, why are we here?  Where is _everyone_ else?”  Her eyes were wide with concern.

“Because you wouldn’t wake up.”  He said, “And we weren’t gonna just let you starve to death.”

“Where is _everyone_ else?  Where is–”

“They are _mostly_ here.”  He managed to get out before the beautiful woman entered the room behind him and he gave Dawn eyes that expressed the need for discretion.

The tall woman spoke.  “How is your _head_ feeling?  That was some tumble you took?”  His eyes pleaded with her for understanding and he knew by her look that she did.

“Ms. Maxwell?”  She said and she offered her hand to the woman on the cot.  “My name is Dr. Rubinstein.”  Ephraim cringed.  He had no idea Rebecca would be in charge when he suggested they bring Dawn here.  She had worked alongside the CDC as the Army’s liason for the [United States biological defense program](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_biological_defense_program).  Their past was … _complicated_.

Dawn offered no response to either her name nor her hand and Rebecca smiled, “I’m glad that you are finally awake.  You had us all _very_ concerned.”

She pointed to the spot on the bed that Ephraim was currently occupying and he begrudgingly gave it up to her, “I hope you don’t mind, but Dr. Goodweather has more pressing concerns at the moment.”  She smiled smugly as he started to make his leave of the room.  Dawn watched him with wide eyes as he furrowed his brow and complied.

Before he exited, he turned to her confused eyes, “I’ll be back later, O.K?  You are in good hands with Rebecca … _uh … Dr. Rubinstein_.”  And he left he room.  He knew she wanted to grill the woman without him present and the thought of that made him uneasy, but he also knew that Dawn was clever enough and hopefully she wouldn’t give up more than was absolutely necessary to satiate the woman’s curiosity.

 

* * *

 

“As Dr. Goodweather said, I’m Dr. Rubinstein.”  She said as she flashed the light in Dawn’s face without asking permission first, “How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better.”

“I’d imagine so.  Do you remember what happened to you?”   _She was fishing._

“I don’t.”  Seemed like a logical and safe answer.

“You don’t remember anything?“

“I think I hit my head.”  She hoped that was the right answer, given Eph’s leading before the woman interrupted them.  She remembered her shoulder and she looked over at it briefly, unable to see beneath the shirt, but it felt absolutely fine.  _Fuck_ … how long had she been out?

“Apparently so.”

“How long?”

“How long what?”  The beautiful woman asked back.  She was taller than Dawn but shorter than Dutch.  Her lips were luscious and full, and her eyes were a rich blue.  Her hair was a rich auburn, curled, and fell around her face perfectly.  Her curves were absolutely proportioned for her body.  She was goddamn gorgeous.  Dawn hated her already and that internal dialogue struck up immediately.  She suddenly realized it usually did when she found herself alone and stressed.  Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

> 
>          “That’s just _hateful_ … We know nothing about her.  She might be a nice person?”
>     
>          “Yeah … right.   _NO_.  People who look like that aren’t nice people.”

She cringed as she knew she was in a terrible mood.  “How long have I been …”  Dawn KNEW that she knew what she was asking, but this woman was simply enjoying having all of the answers.

“Asleep?”  Dawn nodded, “Dr. Goodweather said you were out for three days before they brought you here, and it’s been about two weeks since then.  We honestly didn’t think you’d wake up.”

Dawn’s mind raced through the possible scenarios now and she remembered her dream … about … _the choice_.  She didn’t chose to _fade_ , whatever that meant.  She had to come back to help _them_.  Given that she was here with Ephraim, at the very least, that meant that Quinlan was alive.  Right?  The woman was still talking to her while she flipped through the chart which she had retrieved off the door and she realized she hadn’t heard most of it.

“All your levels are good and you finished your cycle three days ago.  Honestly, everything looks like it’s in good shape … actually perfect shape.  But, you’ve been running a slight fever since you arrived and I think you should stay here for a bit longer, just to make sure–”

“I’d like to talk to Ephraim.”  Dawn stated before Rubinstein could finish her statement.

“You will, I just think that–”

“Maybe I’m not making myself clear, I apologize … you are more than welcome to _try_ and _force_ me to stay.”  Dawn glared at her and she already knew that the woman’s hand, which was conspicuously inside of her lab coat pocket, was holding the syringe that she had seen her wielding earlier in the hallway.  She had no doubts that, should the woman attempt to stick her with it, it would be left in the Doctor’s skin and _not_ hers.

Rubinstein smiled and withdrew her hand from the pocket as she saw Dawn’s eyes staring down to it, “Alright.  But, that’s a bit rude.  Given that we took you in and kept you alive this whole time.”

Dawn stared up at her, defiance in full force, “Humans can generally survive 3 weeks on little to no food, so given that I woke up before that time frame, I’m not sure how much I should … _owe_ you.”  And yes, she knew she was being _incredibly rude_ , but in all honestly, she disliked this woman’s demeanor and attitude.  Having seemingly gotten away with being completely unlikable because of her attractiveness.

The woman sighed, “Ms. Maxwell.  I feel like we have gotten off to a bad start.  Can we try again?”  She offered her hand out to Dawn and this time she reluctantly shook it, “My name is Rebecca.  I am lead physician here at Fort Detrick’s [National Interagency Confederation for Biological Research](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Interagency_Confederation_for_Biological_Research), or as we like to call it, _Nick Burr_ , for short.  Dr. Goodweather, whom I have known since our residency together, brought you in two weeks ago with an acute head injury and you were in a comatose state.”  Dawn relaxed and allowed the woman to continue her exam on her vitals as she was seemingly willing to release information to her.

“Given Ephraim’s current standing with the law, and the fact that he arrived with a known notorious fugitive felon who has been linked directly to the downfall of _New York_ , you’ll understand our reluctance on just letting you _walk out of here_.”

Dawn had delayed too long and the two soldiers whom the Doctor had been cleverly awaiting finally arrived right on queue.  Shit.  She had been distracting her.  She smiled and stood up, “Given your own background in _Intelligence_ , the General asked that I make sure to let him know if you ever came around.  I think before we just let you _wander around_ … if we permit you to do that at all … there are a few questions that they’ll have for you first.”  She smiled and Dawn scowled at how pleased she was with herself.

“We have the clothing that you arrived in or you can go in your gown if you are _still_ unwilling to cooperate fully, _Ms. Maxwell._ ”

That woman smiled again with her perfect teeth and her perfect face, so very pleased with her perfect self.

_What a bitch._

 

* * *

 

They had given her just enough privacy to change back into her clothing.  She surveyed her shoulder and found nothing.  She remembered the glass, but there was no sign of it now, not even a scar.  What the fuck was going on …  Had she been here much longer that two weeks?

After she dressed she was sandwiched between the two taller men that had been sent for her as they walked her down the hallway.  She glimpsed Ephraim in one of the other patient rooms, performing some kind of doctorly duties and though she tried, they didn’t allow her to stop as they pushed her along.

“Sorry ma’am.”  The younger of the two guards said to her, “We’ve been told to take you straight there.”

Dr. Rubinstein was standing at the very end of the hallway and Dawn picked up the trail end of an argument she was having with the older man in fatigues who stood beside her.

“I’m sorry Sergeant, I’m not clearing him for active duty.”

“This is the **_third man_** you’ve pulled from my team this week, Doc.”

“Maybe you should reconsider overworking your men in the future then, Sergeant.”

“They _aren’t_ overworked, Doc.  He’s not infected, he needs to go back on active duty tonight.  We need as many on the watch as possible.”

“ _Sergeant_ ,”  Her tone was incredibly condescending, then again, everything about her was condescending, “This is the _third man_ that has come in _this week_ having _passed out_ on duty due to exhaustion.  If your men are _too tired_ to stay awake during their shifts, what good will they be to the safety of _any of us_?  Besides, there hasn’t been a single infected sighting for nearly two weeks now.”

The older man huffed away in an angry fit as Dawn passed the argument.  She managed to throw a dirty look towards the beautiful woman’s direction and the woman relished in it, smiling back widely to the shorter woman.

_Bitch_.

As they left the building, she could see that it was a mobile hospital of some kind, set up within the base walls itself, likely due to overflow from the other buildings.  She spied other tents set up … well … _everywhere_.  And there were people … _everywhere_.  While some were military, it looked like most were civilians.  Everyone was dirty, everyone was tired and everyone looked defeated, aimless, and lost.

“Yo … YO!   ** _Shortie_**!!!”  She knew the voice and the slightly hispanic accent that accompanied it.  Gus popped out of a nearby crowd with Fet directly behind him as they rushed over to greet her merrily and she smiled.  At least they were fine.

“I’m sorry, _Sir_ ”  The hazel-eyed young guard put his hand out to halt Gus from proceeding directly to her.

“What’s your problem, **_Puto_**?”  Gus threw his head to the side as he attempted to challenge the poor man by putting his hands up in an intimidating manner and Dawn put her own hand up to calm the agitation.

“It’s O.K.  I’ll be right back … right??”  She asked the guard and he welcomed her diffusal of the situation.  Gus was not happy and the giant man who towered behind was only adding to the stress of the younger guard.

“Yes Ma’am.  We just need to take you over for a _debrief_.”  Gus locked eyes with her, silently asking through furrowed brows if he needed to deck the man and she shook her head.

“I’ll be back.”  And they led her away from her bewildered friends and into one of the brick buildings ahead.

_Debrief … sure._

 

* * *

 

The room was exactly as you would expect, sterile and concrete.  Single table, two chairs.  Camera with a flashing red light mounted in the upper corner.

She sat alone for some time before anyone came in, and when they did it was exactly what she’d imagined: a middle-aged white guy in a suit and tie, glasses, and a briefcase.  He was likely around her age, cleft chinned, blonde hair, combed meticulously to the left side of his head.  Standard govie.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Maxwell.  We’re really happy to see that you are up and about.”  He began as he sat down and opened his briefcase, pulling out a folder and never once looking up to her until he was properly situated.  She offered no response.

“We’d just like to go over a quick _debrief_ with you before we send you on your way, if that is alright with you?”

She smirked, “ _Debrief_?  I don’t work for you anymore.”  She wasn’t even sure who he was.

“You know that the contract you signed with us is in effect for your entire lifetime, regardless of–”

“Regardless of the world ending?”  She offered and he smiled back.  The smile was fake.

“It hasn’t ended yet.  Let’s start with your whereabouts since February 8th.  According to our records, you were originally booked on Regis Air Flight 753 out of Berlin … is that correct?”

Dawn blinked at him, “What records?  And … _who are you again_?”

Another fake smile, “New York was crippled, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the world wasn’t watching and researching what was going on.  I’m with Homeland Security … My name is _Mr. Johnson_.”

She gave him back one of his fake smiles.  Of course that was his name … sure … it was good enough.  In her mind she was just going to call him ** _Mr. Tie_** … because _who the fuck_ wears a tie during the end of the world?

“Are you denying that you were supposed to be on the flight?”

She shrugged, “I missed that flight.  I came in on ano–”

“Yes, you were redirected to Newark on the next Regis Air Flight 825.  Is that correct?”

She nodded.  She needed to play along with their questions, she knew this game.

“Can you tell me what you were doing in Berlin?  We show that you spent quite some time throughout Europe before you _came back_.  Was there a reason you were flying to New York instead of back home directly to San Diego?”

“I had a job interview.”

“Yes, with … _Stoneheart_?”  He picked out a paper from his folder and looked at it, “We have the email here.”  Of course they did.

“Why are you asking me things you seem to already know the answers to?”  She could feel that he was fishing.

“What were you doing in Europe, Ms. Maxwell?”

“Vacation.”

He wrote something down on the pad that he had pulled from his bag next and then began to click the pen in and out as he stared at her for a moment, scribbling something else down before proceeding with his next question.

“Was there a reason your flight from Rome took you through Berlin?”

She shrugged, “I didn’t book the flight.”

“That’s right,”  He pulled a new paper from the stack, “ _Stoneheart_ did, didn’t they?  That’s correct?”  She nodded and he continued, “And you have no idea why the flight booked went through Berlin?”

She shrugged yet again, “That’s the only one that they said was available.”

“Hmmm.”  He stared at the sheet of paper for a bit longer than was necessary, “Our analysts show that’s not accurate at all.  In fact, _Stoneheart_ paid an additional two thousand dollars to ensure you went _through_ Berlin.  There were several direct flights with first class seats available directly from _Italy_ that day.”

She stared at him now, offering nothing in response.  She had already figured as much.

He looked back at her, unpleased with her silence.  “Were you aware that your original flight was the origin of the infection in New York?”

“No … not at first … not until later, no.  Seriously … What is this about?  Are you accusing me of something?”   _Debrief … yeah right …_

“Not at all, Ms. Maxwell.  We’re just having a friendly conversation.  You seem pretty stressed through … Is there something that you _should_ be accused of?”

Fishing again … and she shook her head.

“Where have you been since you landed in Newark on February 8th?”

“ ** _Surviving_**.”  She wanted to say something particularly snarky at this point, since it looked like he’d had no exposure to what the rest of the world was dealing with outside of these walls.

“Fair enough.  Let’s move on then.  Where did the scars on your back come from?”

She shouldn’t have been shocked that they knew about that.  They’d stripped her into a gown when she arrived, and they likely had been bathing her daily.  Regardless of how logical it was for them to know, she was still taken back by the question and she stared at him with minor disbelief.

“That’s … _personal_.”

He clicked the pen in and out again before setting it down on the desk, attempting to put on his nice guy face, “If something bad happened to you, you can tell me.  If someone used force to get something out of you, we wouldn’t hold it against yo–”

“What exactly do you think they _got out of me_?”  She questioned immediately which caused him to sigh.

“Given your background, Di–”

“My backgro–”

He repeated by interrupting her, “Given your background, Ms. Maxwell, you have to admit that we are more than a little worried about your sudden appearance here with _Dutch Velders._ ”

“I’m sorry … but you have to be a little less vague about what you are implying for me to understand–”

“How long have you known _Miss Velders_?”

Dawn blinked, “More than a week … less than a month?”  She should have been more confident in her answer, but she knew it didn’t matter.  They’d already concocted some narrative in their weasley little govie minds about something or another.

“So, it was just _pure chance_ that you two met … **_after_** the fall of New York?”

“Mr. Tie,”   _Whooooops_ , that was only supposed to be used only inside of her own head … oh well, fuck it, “Why don’t you just tell me what you have in mind right now, and I’ll let you know how far off you are.”

He smiled at his new fake name.  “According to our records, you two attended the same Big Data Conference in Washington DC in 2008.”

> 
>          “Is he fucking kidding us?  That was six years ago.”

“Thousands of people attended that conference, Mr. Smith.”  She shrugged, “I didn’t meet Dutch until after the shit hit the fan.”

“Johnson.”  He corrected her and was unphased, fishing a new piece of paper from his stack, “According to _Miss Velders_ , you and she worked together to devise a plan that would work against the _Hive_?  She claims you were able to _geolocate it_?”

_Ah shit._  Dutch had told them … she was guessing … everything.  Which was bad news for her.

“We did.”

“Can you tell me about that please?”

She glared at him for a moment, “Simple FDOA / TDOA geolocation.  You can find it on Wikipedia if you want.”

“The longer that you are unwilling to cooperate, Ms. Maxwell, the longer we’ll be in this room.  I have no where else to be.”

“Then why don’t you just ask me what you want to know.”

“Alright.  Did you aid _Dutch Velders_ in the downfall of New York?”

“ ** _No_**.”

“Did you aid in the downfall of New York in any other way?”

“ ** _No_**.”

“Did you disclose national secrets to _Dutch Velders_?”

“ ** _No_**.”  She knew that some of the tech wasn’t on the up and up, but she was _nearly_ 100% sure there was no way for them to tell.  Even if they had their code, they would need access to her old code to check it out.  It was highly _unlikely_ … at best.  “What exactly did Dutch do that has you so rattled?”

The man blinked at her and considered for a moment, “It has been determined that _Miss Velders_ is the responsible party for the downfall of all of the communication networks in the tri-state area directly following the initial attack.  As far as we are concerned, _Miss Velders_ is one of the main perpetrators behind this infection.”

Dawn’s jaw dropped slightly and she realized the look on her face was clear, “You were not aware of that?”  She shook her head meekly.

_Ah fuck._

“So, you can see our concern when someone of your clearance level, given the _sensitive_ _information and projects_ that you worked on, showing up with the very person who made this infection possible from the start.  While, at the same time, _you_ were supposed to be on the plane that brought the infection into the United States, disappearing after the infection starts and then showing up with obvious signs of prolonged torture.”

She spoke to herself again.

> 
>          “Yeah … _shit_.  That doesn’t sound good for us.”

She reached down to start her nervous rubbing and as she did, her brows furrowed with an  immediately and remarkable discovery as he looked up to her concerned face, “Everything alright, Ms. Maxwell?”

She looked up to him again and managed a fake nod, “Yup, sorry.  Go on.”  Her eyes wandered down quickly one more time to verify that what she had thought she saw was actually true.  Yes, her birthmark … was gone.

> 
>          “ _What the fuck_ is going on?”

“Given the other projects that you were associated with and _what_ occurred next in New York weeks after.  You can understand our suspicions.  And I haven’t even touched on the fact that Dr. Goodweather is wanted for questioning in the murder of Dr. Everett Barnes, the Director of the CDC.  It seems like you’ve been keeping some very _unusual_ company lately.”

Dawn nodded.  He definitely wasn’t wrong there.

> 
>          “He doesn’t even know the half of that … does he?”

“Alright, _good_.  Now that we are on the same page.  Let’s go over everything again.  Shall we?”  He smiled that fake smile again.

_Smug ass_.

  



	87. Fan Art - 5

  
  


[quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/155026060510/dawn-diana-the-huntress-and-quintus-sertorius):

> **Dawn “Diana The Huntress” and Quintus Sertorius, Fic[“A Savage Inconvenience”](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com) || Art Nouveau style**
>
>> Hello everyone! I have not posted many things lately, but because it was Christmas recently, I gave to [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA) a gift for her magnificent work in The Strain’s fic “A Savage Inconvenience”, and we agreed that I should post it for the readers too :)
>> 
>> Happy Holidays!!

####  _**Absolutely beautiful!!!** _

####  **[@quinlantheinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mIgdTY5_MuX8F9pHO8C3SeQ) You continue to amaze and motivate me with your fan art.  
**

####  _**Thank you!!!** _


	88. Fan Art - 6

  
  


[admacosta](http://admacosta.tumblr.com/post/155360170544/quick-sketch-of-strainingfororiginalitys-dawn):

> Quick sketch of [@strainingfororiginality](https://tmblr.co/murWzBAlBuu2EwS-kgWm7YA)’s Dawn. Not great. Quick form practice. Apparently in all my effort to learn to draw guys I’ve lost all my female form practice. Ugh. Oh well it was fun to do, and didn’t take long.

####  **I think its pretty great!**

####  **This is awesome!!!**

####  **♥‿♥**


	89. 13.2 - Repercussions

> _Still with feet touching_  
>  _Still with eyes meeting_  
>  _Still our hands match_  
>  _Still with hearts beating_
> 
> _Two feet standing on a principle_  
>  _Two hands digging in each others wounds_

“You know I don’t speak Latin, **_Quintus_**.”  She had used his name … she always did here.

He had lost himself within the story he was recanting to her and he was sure he’d trailed off into his native language.  He had been staring up at the ceiling as he laid on his back on the other side of the bed from her.  His fingers interlaced and his hands resting peacefully atop his stomach.  He turned his face to see hers peering back at him from her pillow.  She had been laying on her side, staring at him while he spoke.

They were back in the house, back in that upstairs rooms that had once been _his_ and then had become _hers_.  He knew it wasn’t real; he knew it was just dream, but he didn’t care anymore.  The frustration that he once felt had given way to acceptance.

The delicate right corner of his lips curved up in a miniature half smile, “Then that is something we shall have to remedy.”

She seemed to like the thought of that statement and she smiled wide enough to show her perfect teeth which, in turn, caused Quinlan to smile even wider as he rocked himself over onto his left side to face her, propping his head up with his hand.

“ _Yes_?”  He asked rhetorically, simply appreciating and wanting more validation from his statement.  He had promised to show her how to shoot in a similar manner … he had _promised_ her … he pushed the thought from his mind as he was **_here_** with her _now_ , even if it wasn’t real.

She nodded once and with this compliance, he reached out and tapped the top of her hand that was resting in front of her, palm down on the sheet between them.

“ _ **Manibus** … _**hand**.”  She attempted to mimic his accent.  It was truly _terrible_ and he could tell by the furrow of her brow that she knew it.

 

He tapped farther up on her forearm, “ ** _Brachium_** …”  This time, he waited for her recitation before defining it. “ **Arm**.”

He touched farther up still, on the highest part of her shoulder and his touch lingered longer here, the finger resting on her shirt, “ ** _Scapula_** …”

“Scapula”  It sounded more like “spatula” to him, but she was attempting to put more emphasis on the sounds this time, attempting to at least roll her R’s.  “ **Shoulder**.”

He rocked slyly forward on the bed, moving his body closer as he softly brushed the small bit of hair that had fallen down and covered part of her eye from him, pushing it back behind her ear, “ ** _Pilorum_** …”

“Peeloroom.”

“ **Hair**.”  He heard her heartbeat rhythm increase with this prolonged touch as he let it linger there, before tracing the delicate skin of her outer ear down to her jawline with the very tip of his middle finger.  He felt himself shifting closer to her on the bed as he stared at the skin under his finger tip.

 

“ ** _Audite_** …”

“Audit-tey.”  He smiled, it was close enough, he would work on her pronunciation _later … later_?  Quinlan pushed the thought from his mind.  He was here … now …   “ **Ear**.”

He traced her jawline next as he pulled himself a few inches closer still and he immediately felt his own heart rate jump, “ ** _Maxilla_** …”

“Maxilla.”  This word was nearly perfect.   _Good_.  “ **Jaw**.”

Now Quinlan touched the cheekbone under her eye and brushed his finger across her face, bringing it up across her nostril and stopping at the tip of her nose.

“ ** _Lentigines_** …”

“Linty gene ness.”  He hid his grimace at her atrocious accent with this word and found it sounded more _Australian_ rather than Latin.

“ **Freckles**.”  Then, his finger traced from the tip of her nose, delicately brushing up and down the bridge of it, “ ** _Nares_** …”

She repeated again and he defined it after, “ **Nose**.”

Quinlan brought his finger from the tip of her speckled nose, down and over her mouth until he stopped on her chin, “ ** _Ostium_** …”

She did not repeat it immediately and he could feel the tension that he had just created in the air, the goosebumps that he had caused across her arms, and the breath that she was now holding back from escape.  He repeated the word again, “ ** _Ostium_** …”

She complied without hesitation the second time, “Ost-hume.”  And he smiled briefly, staring down to where he had just touched, “Mouth.”

He brought his finger back up and traced from the left side of her lower lip, gently across its width to the right side as he quietly inched closer to her, “ ** _Labiis_** …”

“Labeese.”  She giggled quietly under her breath at this word and he knew it was because it was quite similar to another body part.  He smiled as he thought he would get to that part soon.  Her breathing quickened as he defined it, touching them again as he spoke, “ **Lips**.”

Quinlan leaned forward towards her until he could feel her breath on his face, “ ** _Oscula_** …”  His heart raced.  Would he **_finally_** be allowed to kiss her?  Or would he wake up before …

“Osc–”  She was halfway through the word when he finished his lean and his lips pressed to hers, softly and briefly, before pulling back to allow him to speak again, “ **Kiss**.”

 

He followed this with another brief connection before pulling away again.  She attempted to lean forward for another, but he managed a word before he meet her again, “ _ **Lingua**_ …”

This time, the kiss was not brief and he opened his mouth, pushing himself against her firmly, running his tongue tenderly across her lips before pulling back.  “ **Tongue** ,” he defined it and uttering the word caused him to tighten.

_Mmmmm_.

“ ** _Auriolus_** …”

She tried to lean forward again to taste him and he pushed his forehead to hers, halting the intended advancement _momentarily_.  He wasn’t done with the lesson quite yet.  One more word … just one _more_.  His body fought him fiercely on this contentious decision, but he ignored it.  As much as he _hated_ this protest, he knew he would wake up _before_ …

Her hand was suddenly on his arm.  Rattled at its meandering path from his elbow up to his shoulder, he touched her cheek again, directly under her eye, he whispered, “ ** _Libellula_** …”

She pulled back from him, so that their eyes could lock and he saw the grin on her lovely thin mouth as she spoke, “ ** _Dragonfly_**.”

He opened his eyes and sat up on the dirty little bed in the ransacked airstream trailer that he had been calling home for the last few weeks and looked around at the mess within.

_Another dream_.  They were always different, he never experienced the same one twice and they plagued him nightly now.  He had loathed them in the beginning because they seemed to be nothing more than torment.  They never came to any kind of _fruition_ … he always woke before …

However, now he came to look forward to them.  He came to almost anticipate them.  She was always there and she was always pleased to see him.  Looking at the clock across the miniature metal mobile home, there was at least an hour or two left of daylight and he laid back down.  He didn’t need to sleep this much, but … he liked what happened when he did.

And Quinlan closed his eyes again …

**_Auriolus_ …**

**… (beautiful)**

 

* * *

 

They had come to a nicely orchestrated impasse.  She knew he didn’t have the clearances to understand what exactly she knew as he was just getting orders from someone else.  She refused to tell him anything that she claimed he wasn’t cleared for and he smiled.  She assumed that the US had already declared [Martial Law](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FMartial_law&t=M2Q0OWE3YWIzZDFjYTQ3ZjliMDQ1NzlhODZmMTBhMTRhYjFlZjgyMCxDQzBLT2duUQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155399046349%2Fchapter-13&m=1) in this state of emergency and now the bluff was whether or not they would bother locking her up or whether they would bite on the bait that she would be more useful for them elsewhere.

She’d planted sufficient reasonable doubt in his mind about everything he questioned her on and now he was under the correct impression that she harboured information and technology that would be helpful to them in winning this fight.

 

> 
>          “We both know they won’t be able to do anything against _The One_ , even if they could geolocate him.”

There was a knock on the door and Mr. Tie packed up his shit.

“It was nice to meet you, _Mr. Richards._ ”

He looked at her confused for a moment and furrowed his brow.  He opened his mouth to say something, thought twice, then closed it.  Finally he spoke again, repeating his original _fake_ name _“It’s … **Johnson**.”_  He gave her a troubled look before leaving the room.

_Ass_.

It was was a few minutes before she was graced with the General’s presence himself.  He entered and was followed by the hazel-eyed young man who had escorted her earlier.  The General was an older man, tall, thin, gray haired, and wearing fatigues that matched all of his soldiers.

She stood when he entered the room and he waved her to sit back down as he took the only other seat and sigh heavily as he relieved the pressure of gravity on his bones.  She quickly decided that she might as well behave around him.  He’d already been watching, she was sure.

“Hello Di–”

“ ** _Dawn_**.”  She corrected him before he spoke her name.   _Yesterday is dead._

He looked confused for a split moment and she spoke again, “I go by **_Dawn_** now.”  And he shrugged … _sure … whatever._  He obviously had more important things to worry about.

“Dawn, I think we can be useful to each other.  So, I’m gonna show some good faith given the circumstances … “

“I’m gonna release you into Corporal Webb’s custody for now.”  He waved towards the young man, “He’ll make sure you don’t get into too much trouble, I hope.”

“What about _Dutch_?”  She knew she was pushing her luck with that one.

“ _Velders_ will stay where she is … which is outta trouble, and if we see fit to use either of ya’lls skills, we’ll let you know.  The good Corporal here will ensure you don’t … _get lost again_.  I hope you understand … given what we know about your background, it’s best if your brain doesn’t fall into their hands, right?”  She nodded as she knew what he meant and although his smile was genuine, it left her uneasy.  She understood this was not a man that she needed to fuck with.

“Listen up though, if it were up to me, you’d already be in a cell, but things bein’ as they are, there’re more important things I need to worry about.”  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair as they were far from comfortable.

 

“And one more thing, sweetheart … my trust is something that’s earned.  I don’t give it for free.  In this world, you don’t get nothin’ for free.  Don’t make me regret it.”

Standing, she offered her hand to the older man, “Thank you, _General_ …?“

He seemed to appreciate to gesture of it and he stood, grasping it tightly as she returned the favor.  His grip was much stronger than hers, but she gave him her best shake.

“It’s _Shaw_.  And … welcome to Fort Detrick, ma’am.”

 

* * *

She heard him sweet talking the guard again.  He’d likely sweet talked the commissary woman again to give him extra candy bars, and now he was bribing George, her lovely dayshift guard, to let him by.

“Just a few minutes, man?”  George tries to deny him, but she could almost _hear_ his giant, dimple ridden smile through his words, “Awww, come on man.  What am I gonna do?  I ain’t gonna sneak her out.  Beside, da lady gave me _two_ Snickers ta-day.”

She hears George sigh in surrender and then footsteps leading up to the outer door of the stockade.  The keys clanked gloriously against each other as he fiddled the doors open.  It was almost the exact same routine everyday, and she thought George just acted reluctant so Fet would give up more goods each time.

As he rounded the corner and saw her face peering back from the bars, she saw that giant dimpled smile and it brought her immediate comfort.

“Hey _Criminal_.”  He teased as he approached.

God damn, she was so happy to see him.

“You know I hate it when you call me that, love.”

Fet continued to smile, “Den maybe ya shouldn’t have been one.”

She reached through the bars and he grabbed her hands as he turned to George, “Sum privacy, ya?”

George tilted his head to the left, “Come on, Vasily.  You are gonna get me in trouble if–”

“It’ll be quick, I promise!  You already patted me down and everything.”  The guard sighed and started to open the newly acquired candy before departing back down the hallway.

“I don’t know how you do that,”  She said as she squeezed his hand, “That guy won’t even say two words to me.”

“Ya, well … you are a _criminal_ , right?”

Deep down inside, Dutch knew why George didn’t talk to her.  She knew why no one would talk to her, even the people in the other cells.  They had to entirely isolate her after the second day because of the animosity towards her.  Everyone blamed her for _all of this_.  On some level, she blamed herself too.

However, she knew Vasily did not and he was full of smiles now, “How is every–”  She asked eagerly.

“ _She woke up!_ ”  He interrupted like a little kid.  He’d been holding it inside until George was fully gone.

“Are you _shitting_ me?”

Fet nodded eagerly and raised an eyebrow to her.  God, she wanted to give him a giant kiss right now.

“Is she ok?  I mean … Is she …”  Dutch tapped the side of her head, “ … _O.K._?”  When Quinlan had brought her back to them, there was a lot of debate on whether or not brain damage might have occurred.  Eph was 100% certain it had.

“She seems fine, I mean … _really fine_.  But we didn’t get to talk to her too much …  Dey took her away.”  Dutch nodded.  Of course they took her away, they were all bastards here, but it was still  good news and she smiled.

“Can we get the _hell_ out of here then?”  She questioned as quietly as possible and Vasily nodded.  The idea had originally been to just stay long enough to assess her situation and move on.  Initially, it had seemed like a good plan, until she was arrested shortly after arriving, Eph was placed under protective custody and Quinlan seemed to disappear all together.

“Has anyone seen _him_ lately?”

“No.”  Fet shook his head, “Not since …  “  From what he told her, there had been a fairly substantial argument between the two of them, on whether it would be a good idea to leave the base in Dawn’s current condition.  Fet had said Quinlan pushed that it was the safest place for _them all to be_ , regardless if Dutch was in jail or not, and there was little room for compromise in his final decision.  She was glad she wasn’t there to witness the ‘ _conversation_ ’ as Fet had described it.

Without Abraham around anymore to diffuse the tension that tended to build between the two men, she shuddered to think how it might have gone down.  She tried not to think about the old man too often, as she teared up each and every time she did and this time was unfortunately no different.  Fet saw the wells pooling up in her eyes and he assumed wrongly it was because she was still stuck in this shithole.

“Hey, hey … It don’t matter.  Dis doesn’t change da plan.  Two more days.”  He gripped her hand tightly.  She wasn’t going to tell him it was because she was thinking about the Professor.  No, he’d taken his loss the hardest of everyone and she could still read it on him.  He was a bit quieter than he normally was, a bit angrier, a bit less Fet.

“ _That bloody bastard_ … “  Dutch said under her voice.  That statement was true in more than one way.

“Has Eph been ta see ya lately?”

Dutch shook her head, “No, it’s not _that_ easy to get in here, Vasily.”  She smiled at him.

“Dat don’t stop _me_.”  She knew it didn’t … each and every single bloody afternoon, and she knew it was the highlight of his entire day.  He showed her his dimples again as he gripped her hand tightly between the bars one more time before they heard George shuffling back down the corridor.

“Don’t worry, we’re workin’ on da plan.  With or without da muncher’s help, we are gettin’ you outta here … Her wakin’ up is just good timing, yeah?”

Dutch nodded and released his hand as the guard returned and ushered Fet out of the building.

_Good.  About bloody time._ It was starting to get super boring in here.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim’s shift was over and his shadow stood at the end of the hospital hallway as he normally did.  The first couple of days, he followed him around like a good puppy, but quickly grew bored of the monotony of doctorhood.

He moved into the now empty room which had been occupied by his little friend until earlier today, closing the door behind him as he sat on the bed.  The night shift would be coming in soon and he had a few minutes before Herbert would notice.  He couldn’t remember his real name, but that one seemed to fit the bumbling Private best.   _Herbert McHerbertFace._

Rebecca had argued with him on taking these remedial doctor shifts, she wanted him in the lab working on the next bio-weapon with her.  He wanted to stay close until Dawn woke up, so this was how he had chosen to spend all of his free time.

The sun set roughly ten minutes ago and he knew her nightly visitor would arrive soon.  He generally waited outside until Darla checked her vitals at the beginning of her shift before pulling the zipper apart from outside and slipping in.

Ephraim had only actually seen him once, the second day she was here.  He knew it was because Quinlan had allowed him to, simply to let him know he was still around, and Eph also knew the window was open every single morning when he came in to check on her.   _Sometimes_ he would make it there before the next shift and zip it shut.

He was staring down at the ground and he nearly jumped off the bed as he realized that the man in black had entered the room and stood before him without making a sound.  

_“Ah fuck, man!”_  He yelped under his breath as he jolted.

Quinlan’s hood was pulled over his face and the old man’s sword was secured to his back.  He’d carried it since Abe’s death.  His eyes were wide with worry.

“ _Doctor, where–_ ”  Ephraim was hoping to halt any amount of concern that was immediately and inevitably building within the half-breed as he interrupted him quickly and succinctly as possible.

“She’s awake, Q.”  It was hard to read any emotion from the dhampir, but his shoulders relaxed in a nearly miniscule way that Ephraim almost missed.

“Is she–”

“She’s O.K. and she felt well enough to down two of our biggest orderlies when she woke up.”

The smallest of smiles graced the right corner of his mouth, “Where is she?”

“They took her into the main building a couple of hours ago,”  Quinlan moved towards the window and Ephraim put his hand up, “Wait … what’s the plan now?  The others–”

“I am unsure yet.”  Quinlan was still moving and Ephraim stood up as he arrived at the window and grabbed the aluminum sides, preparing himself to jump out.

“Wait wait … One thing … you gotta lay off the soldiers, man.  Rebecca’s not an idiot … she’s already suspicious as it is.  She knows I’m hiding something from her.”

Quinlan’s immense desire to leave was apparent and only growing stronger by the second however he held himself back for a moment as he sneered a response back to the Doctor “Yes.  Well … they should be grateful the camp is free of feeders for miles around.”

“You said you’d only need _one_ a week … not **_three_**.”

Quinlan rolled his head in annoyance and answered with a rattling voice.  He wished to leave already, “I am aware.  I was interrupted with the first and the second was teeming with _narcotics_ … I will be more discerning in the future.”

“Wait … The second one?  You mean **_Barnes_**?  That bastard … I _knew_ drugs were miss–”  Ephraim started to say, but he dropped his sentence mid execution as he realized he was now completely alone.

“ _Damnit… we **need** a plan, Q._ ”  He said lowly and hoped that the dhampir would hear him.

 

* * *

The Doctor was wrong, she wasn’t in the largest brick building, the one labeled _Administration_.  She wasn’t in _any_ of the brick buildings, Quinlan quickly determined.  The bulk of the civilian refugees were being housed in the makeshift tent barracks in the area surrounding the Family Housing facilities, so he decided to start there next.  It was also where Gus and Fet were being housed.

He stood behind the densest area of trees, just beyond the furthest tent and listened carefully.  There were thousands of people crammed into the open grassy area, and the children’s voices were the hardest to weed out, since her voice was light and soft like theirs.  He focused on each one as he moved around the edge of trees that circled the encampment, until he heard it.  Soft and light.

_She was laughing_.

 


	90. 13.3 - Repercussions

> _2 weeks ago in the Outskirts of New York City_

“Someone needs to talk to him … we can’t just … _stay here … waiting_.”  Ephraim was the first to say anything, as Fet, Gus, and Dutch followed him along their walk down the rim of the concrete washway.  It was mid-afternoon, and they knew they shouldn’t be out in the open, but they also needed some privacy for the conversation.  That _damn_ half-breed could probably still hear them from here.

“I agree.  We really need to start planning ahead.”  Dutch said.

“Aight … who’s the unlucky one then?”  Gus questioned.  Normally, it would have been Abe’s job to try and sway the dhampir.

Fet was still angry, “I still say we don’t need him.  I say we go without him.”

Dutch sighed, “I don’t think I like our odds without Q, love.  Besides, we finally have a way to track that son of a bit–”

“Den we go ourselves … _we don’t need him_.  We finish dis.”

“And what about _her_?  She’s still our friend.”  Ephraim offered to the unreasonable man and Fet shuffled about, not responding while he shoved his hands into his giant coat’s pockets.

“Alright, we need to go, we can’t stay here.  Ephraim, talk to him.”  Dutch decided.

“Wait … me?  Why **_me_**?!”

“Because, _ese_.”  Gus slapped him on the back, “You are the one who’s jonesing to leave.”  Dutch motioned for the two men to head back with a silent nod of her head and she walked up beside the big man who stared out through the chain link fence that lined the washway.

“Fet, we all miss him …”  She knew Fet missed him most.

“He didn’t even let us say goodbye.”  She knew _he_ wasn’t referring to Abe.  Fet started to walk away from her as he kicked a nearby rock down the concrete embankment, turning away from the _Hacker_ so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

“He said that wasn’t his choice.  It was Abe’s.  You saw him after–”

“ ** _After what?_**  You mean … after **_HE KILLED HIM!?_** ”

“You know it was a mercy.  I know you saw it too.  That wasn’t easy for him.  I _know_ you bloody saw–”

“He had no right to take that away from us.”

“Would you have rather the Professor had asked **_YOU_** to do it?”

“I …”

“Would you, eh?”  She tried to stop him from walking away from her words.

“… _no_ … I just … I _dunno_ … I wanted to say goodbye, ya know?   ** _He_** got to say goodbye, ya know?”

“Did you really … I mean … honest to god, did you **_REALLY_** want to say goodbye?  To look him in the face, knowing that he was about to die?”

Fet kicked another rock, refusing to turn around to her or respond.

“Because … if it were up to me … I wouldn’t want to look you in the face.  I wouldn’t want to see the way that you would look back at me, knowing I was infested with all that **_shit_**.”

“Dat’s selfish … _you promise me, **you promise me** _ dat you won’t do dat to me,”  He turned around quickly, finally showing her his teary face as he grabbed her shoulders, pleading with her as he shook her gently, “You promise me dat if you have dat choice, you let me say goodbye to you.”

Dutch nodded through her own crying and let the big man embrace her with _all_ of his strength.

She offered one last sentence before they walked back to the bunker in silence, “It wasn’t a privilege,”  She thought back to the dhampir’s face that night, “What he asked Quinlan to do for him … ”

She still remembered the scene way too clearly.  Fet had started to scream from up top, and when she’d made her way to the surface, Quinlan was sitting on the concrete pylon, holding the Professor’s sword perpendicular to the ground, tip digging into the dirt, his chin resting on the wolf handle, the blade streaked with red blood.  He stared at the ground in front of him, at the body that lay underneath his own outer coat which he had removed and laid carefully over the old man.  Gus was holding Fet back.

The reason why was more than apparent, as the worms were attempting to escape out from under the black wool as they stood there, shocked by the scene.  Quinlan sat, entirely unaffected by Fet’s screams, simply staring at the limp figure on the ground and offering only a single sentence before he took the body away to burn.

_“Forgive me … it was his final request.”_

 

* * *

 

“You and the others are welcome to leave at any point, Doctor.”  He said from his seated position next to the bed, “I am not forcing any of you to stay here.”  This, of course, was a bluff, as he was not really open to letting _the Doctor_ leave at this point, not while she was still in this state.  He couldn’t have cared less about the others.

Ephraim sighed heavily, “Q …”  It had been three days since his return with the woman in tow.  Three days and she still hadn’t moved an inch.  Quinlan had left only once during that time, and that was to return to their last house for various supplies, namely IV kits, antibiotics and food.  He allowed no _humans_ to accompany him, as he knew their presence would only provide greater risk.  

He had refused to bring alcohol back, requiring Ephraim stay sober until she awoke, and this had put the Doctor on edge for the first two days.  All things considered, he seemed to be in better spirits now.  Perhaps just _less angry_ at the very least.

“She needs to eat.”  Ephraim stated and Quinlan finally stood, turning to look at the Doctor’s face.

“Very well, tell me what you need and I will retrieve it.”

Ephraim shook his head, “We need more than that.  We need to run tests … and to do that we’ll need equipment and power … We need to make sure there is even brain–”

“She breaths on her own.  She will awaken … I am certain.”  His annoyance was ripe, and he got particularly testy with Ephraim each time he bought up _this_ possibility.

“She’s been running a mild fever for a few days now and the antibiotics aren’t having _any_ effect … and that might only get _worse_.  Q, we can’t stay here … for _her sake_.  She needs more help than I can give her locked in this little bunker.  We have no idea what that _shit **you**_ gave her actually did.  She needs constant monitoring–”

Quinlan looked back to her, “Where would you suggest we go?”

Ephraim shifted a bit, “I have a few of places in mind.  I think we both agree we need to get away from the city for a while, someplace that can be fortified.”

Quinlan did not trust Goodweather, especially after the offer that was made to him by the _Master_.  He knew he had betrayed his friends once before when such an deal had been made, “Goodweather, if you are planning further _treachery_ , I will warn you again–”

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Ephraim was honestly taken back by the sudden mistrust.

“Do not think that I have forgotten the offer that _my father_ made to you.”  Quinlan stood as straight as possible with his hands clasp behind him as he eyed the Doctor suspiciously.  The offer was Zach for Dawn, and Goodweather would do _anything_ to get his son back.

“I’m not a fool, Quinlan.”  Quinlan tilted his head to the right, and the Doctor completed the sentence before he could, “I know, I know … I’m _human_.  But I know the _Master_ would never keep his end of ANY bargain.  I want her to stay _alive_ as much as you do.”

Quinlan sighed and turned back to the woman, “You will forgive me if I doubt your _sincerity_.”  Besides, there was simply _no way_ that the Doctor wished her alive as much as _he_ did.

Ephraim stepped around him and kneeled beside her bed while he spoke, checking the wound on her shoulder again, “Trust me, I understand.  Do I need to remind you that you were a willing accomplice in that _same treachery_?”

Ephraim pulled the bandage back and neither of them were shocked to see that the wound was entirely gone now, and he pulled the gauze free, touching the skin where there should have been a scar, where there should have been _something_ to indicate she’d been cut.  Her other scars were still present though, at least those on her back and the one that Quinlan himself had left on her neck.

Ephraim checked her pupils again and Quinlan used it as a segue to ask something which had been plaguing him, “Her condition … _Osteogenesis Imperfecta_ …,”  he saw the Doctor cringe at his correct pronunciation of the Latin term.  Quinlan was quite accomplished at language and he knew he could appease the Doctor by using the term without the accent, but he would not.  It was a Latin word, after all.

“Yeah?”

“Is it caused by _hollow_ bones?”

Ephraim laughed at the thought, “No.  No it’s not.”

“Are you certain?  What causes–”

Ephraim interrupted him and turned to look up to his questioning face, “It’s a collagen deficiency.”

Quinlan raised a hairless brow to him.

“It’s defective connective tissue.”

“Connective tissue … _around_ the bone?”  Quinlan furrow his brow next.

“No, no, _inside_.  O.K., how about this … It’s how they form that makes them weak.  It’s like using wood instead of rebar inside of a concrete foundation to reinforce it.”

Quinlan nodded, the analogy was sufficient, “Hmmm.   _Not_ hollow then.”

“Its funny you ask about it though.”

“Why is that?”

“I think it’s gone.”

Quinlan knew he should have been shocked by this, but some part of him knew that was likely the case, “How can you be certain?”  If the Professor’s suspicions were accurate, then this condition would not have _gone away._  If the Professor was correct, then her condition might have even gotten worse.

“Well … I can’t.  But her eyes, the sclera, they aren’t blue anymore.  I’ve checked every day.  They haven’t been since you put that _shit_ in them.  But, her DNA–”

“I can offer you no answers on this subject, Doctor.  As I have already said.  We all have questions for when she wakes.”  He lied to Ephraim.  He had chosen to keep the conversation between the Professor and himself private for now.

He watched the Doctor finish his examination of her, after which he stood and turned back to face Quinlan, “ _Listen_ , I want her to live.  She’s one of us.  But I know we are both thinking it … as long as she’s alive, he’s gonna come for her.”  Quinlan furrowed his nostrils at this, “And as long as we have something he wants, we have–”

“Leverage?”  Quinlan attempted to finish his sentence.

“ ** _Bait_**.”

No, he did not trust Goodweather at all.  Quinlan rattled.

 

* * *

 

“Shit guys …”  Fet called back from the front of the van, “Der’s people here …”

The first two hospitals that they had stopped to check on their way to Fort Detrick had been entirely abandoned and without power.  In the end, they were useless.  People had been impressively efficient in their abilities to loot for healthcare supplies after _The Fall_.  This had been the Doctor’s final suggestion and it was a good two hour drive from the bunker.

“What do you mean _people_?”  Ephraim called up to him from his seat in the middle row.  Dutch sat next to him and attempted to look around Fet’s shoulder to see what was causing the giant man to slow down.

“I mean, der’s people … _LOTS of people_.”  Fet stopped the van fully on the side of the road as the group eyed the roadblock a mile ahead.  Men in Army fatigues walked the barbed-wire barricade with assault rifles in hand.

“It’s the military, man.  The country’s still fightin’.  It ain’t over.”  Gus’ voice was full of optimism as he smiled back from the front passenger seat.

“Where can we go next?”  Quinlan posed from the final row of seats.  He rode with the woman head’s in his lap, her body stretched out across the other two seats.  She was short enough that she fit nicely in the width available and there was no need to bunch up her legs.  He’d taken off his inner coat and folded it into a makeshift pillow as he held her head gently while they drove.

“No, actually.   _This_ is perfect.  This place is supposed to be entirely self sufficient.  It functions completely separate from the grid.”  Ephraim said back to him, “If they are still up and running, then–”

“ ** _Goodweather_**.”  He was not amused.

The Doctor turned to face him, “This is her best shot.  We run a few tests, get some supplies, a feeding tube kit and then we are out.  It’ll be fast … _Lickity split_.”

Quinlan looked down at her face and brushed the loose hair away with his gloveless fingers.  He couldn’t go in with them, he knew.  He could at least stay close and he begrudgingly nodded, “Alright …”

He leaned forward as he whispered into her ear, “Do not worry.   _I will be close_.”

 

 

* * *

 

> _Fort Detrick, Present_

All things considered, Corporal Webb was actually really cute, but she knew he was probably around ten years younger than her, maybe more.  And each time that he used ‘ma’am’ to respond to her, she felt even older.

He’d been nice enough to show her where the ‘bulk of the refugees’ were housed so she could find her friends, and it didn’t take nearly as long as she thought before she spied the giant man in the crowd of dirty and aimless people.

She laughed when he picked her up while he embraced her fully, crushing all the air out of her lungs.  “We didn’t think you were gonna wake up!”  He was happy to see her which actually surprised Dawn quite a bit.  She’d never really considered herself part of their group until this very moment.  However happy she was, she immediately launched into her desired questioning.

“Where is _everyone_ else?” she asked.  Ephraim’s comment that they were _mostly_ there had been plaguing her.

The smile on Fet’s face quickly faded and his head tilted forward, “Da Professor didn’t make it.”  It was not what she was expecting to hear and her hand covered her mouth that had suddenly dropped agape.  She looked at Gus briefly before offering her condolences to them as she hugged Fet again, “I’m so sorry.”  He was too big to get her arms around fully, but she tried her hardest.

He shrugged off his emotion as best he could and continued, eyeing the young man that was sent to follow her around, “Its O.K. … Dutch is in **_jail_**.  Eph is …”  He waved his hand around in the air above his head, “… in some secret lab somewhere.  We ain’t allowed to see him.”

Dawn was trying to be patient with him, but when he stopped there, she was forced to ask specifically, “Fet, _where_ ’s Q?”

Fet looked at the soldier uncomfortably again, and this time it was Gus that offered up an answer, “We dunno.  He’s gone.”

“What do you mean _gone_?   _Gone_ **_gone_**?”  She gulped as her heart paused for a brief moment of panic … **_Gone_**?

“No … we don’t think so … I mean.  He left.”

She looked down at the ground, thinking about it, “He just … _left_?  When?”  There had to be more to it than that.

Gus looked back towards the Corporal again.  They obviously didn’t want to talk about this now, but she didn’t care, “When did he leave?”

“Two weeks ago … he cou–didn’t come with us.”  This was from Fet.  She picked up on the near slip … _he **couldn’t** come with them._

Nevertheless, him being gone wasn’t right.  That didn’t seem right at all.  That didn’t _feel_ right.  He was supposed to be _close_ wasn’t he?  She wasn’t sure why she felt that way, but the fact that he was simply _gone_ saddened her.  After everything, he wouldn’t just _leave_?  At the very least she had confirmation that he was still alive … well, two weeks ago that is.

“I dunno why you care, though.  I mean … after what he **_did_** to you …” Fet trailed off and she looked back at him with severe confusion.

“What do you mean … what _he_ did to _me_?”

“Hey, let’s talk about this later?  Are you hungry, chica?  They make a mad burro over in Tent Seven.”  Gus was quick to change the subject in order to subdue the Corporal’s peaking interest.  She was not hungry at all actually, even after throwing up everything that she assumed had been her lunch, but she agreed anyways.

 

* * *

 

She wasn’t physically tired, she felt like she could stay up for days, but Fet and Gus were and when they attempted to take her back to Tent Ten to find a bed, the Corporal interrupted.  This was the first time he’d actually spoken to them _all night._

“No, Sir.  That won’t be necessary.  General Shaw has provided her apartment quarters in the officer housing barracks.”

“Wait … you mean she gets a real bed and a REAL bathroom?  How do I swing dis deal?”  Fet questioned immediately.  Apparently accommodations in the camp weren’t to his liking.

“How big is it?  They can just come with us.”  She immediately posed to the young soldier.  It’s not like they weren’t used to all sleeping in the same room together already.

“No, _Ma’am_.  I’m sorry.  Refugees need to stay in _this_ area.”  So, she reluctantly left her friends there and promised to find them the next day.  She needed to work on a plan on how to ditch the soldier.

On their way to find her new digs, she questioned, “Why can’t they come with us?”

“Refugees–”

“I know, I know … they are supposed to stay in that area.   ** _Why_**?”  This guy was like a broken record.

“Safety reasons, _Ma’am_.”  Ugh, ma’am again.

“Safety for who, exactly?”

“For everyone, _Ma’am_.”  This guy was less than forth coming, but when they got to her quarters, it seemed nicely enough.  A one bedroom apartment with a built in kitchenette.  It reminded her of the same accommodations she’d gotten at another base she’d stayed at.

“So, where are you gonna stay?”  She pondered to him as he followed her inside.

“The couch, _Ma’am_.  I was told not to leave you alone.”

She giggled at the thought of it and she asked, “Does that include when I go to the bathroom?”

Finally he cracked a smile and seemed to relax, but just a bit.  His stance and demeanour almost reminded her of another soldier she knew.   _Almost_.  This one was much less pale.

 

“No, that’s fine, _ma_ -”

“Please don’t call me ma’am again.”

He grinned at her, his hazel eyes beaming, “Just _Maxwell_ , then?”

“Sure.”  He could call her _Herbert_ for all she cared, but just not ma’am.   _Herbert_?  What a strange thought.  She wondered where she got that from before hopping off to the bathroom, which was found through the bedroom, and basked in the ability to _finally_ be alone.  Her introversion was in full swing and the emotional exhaustion of socializing over the last couple of hours finally hit her.  A shower would be nice and she checked that they did have honest to god fucking _hot water_.

_WOW._

**_THANK ZEUS HIMSELF._ **

She slowly pulled off the clothes that she had been wearing.  First the jacket and then the baggy, v-necked, long sleeved shirt.  She remembered Quinlan offered her a similar shirt in the high rise apartment, but this wasn’t the same one.  It didn’t have any holes in it, much less the hole that the glass shard had made in her shoulder that night.  It was one of his shirts nonetheless, but he’d never worn it.  It didn’t smell like him at all.

She wondered immediately as it crossed her if that a was a creepy observation to make and quickly decided that it was.   _Shame on her._  She’d see if she could find a new shirt tomorrow, as much as she wanted to keep this one.

She looked down to her wrist again in the fluorescent lighting and ran her fingers over where the mark had been.  There was nothing.  She checked her shoulder again and _again_ found _nothing_.  Had it all been a dream?   _The rocket, , the jump, the glass, the … blood_?

The hot water felt more than nice.  She’d nearly forgotten what it was like to take a warm shower, as their previous house had none.  She scrubbed herself fiercely, knowing that she’d likely only been exposed to sponge baths the last few weeks, and when she was satisfied that she was clean enough, she slipped out and began to dry herself with one of the available clean towels.

As she wiped the steam that had built up on the mirror, she took a look at herself.  She didn’t do this often, she’d learned to hate her reflection over the years.  It did nothing but cause her stress.  Over the years, she looked more and more like her mother and she _disliked_ her very much.

What Dawn saw staring back at her wasn’t entirely what she expected.  She felt tired, but she didn’t look it.  She had no signs of the damage that the mercenary had inflicted on her that day.  No indication of a cut on her cheek or lip remained.

She prodded herself, specifically the area between her eyebrows that had been the first part of her face to really age and wrinkle, but it seemed to be plumper now.  The furrows created by her deep thought were still there, but they were not as apparent as she remembered them being now.

She looked at the hair around her face, the wisps that floated down along her hairline and her eyebrows.  Was her hair getting lighter?  She knew she was starting to grey, but this was more golden than grey or even ash.

Shrugging it off, she admitted that she was tired, even if it wasn’t a kind of tired that sleeping more would fix.  She pulled her jacket back on as it was suddenly quite chilly and dried off her hair as best she could before stepping back into the bedroom.

The slightest breeze hit her as she turned towards the window.  No wonder it’s chilly, but that wasn’t open befo–

“OH!” She suddenly jumped as she realized that the man in black had entered the room and stood before her without making a sound, like the fucking ninja he was.


	91. 13.4 - Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who might not like the way this ends. Stick with me through the next chapter at least. ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

Her green eyes were wide, both with fright and relief.  She hadn’t meant to let out the yelp, but he had surprised the shit out of her by just standing there.

“Everything alright?”  Quinlan placed his finger up to his lips as the Corporal called out from the living room.

The young man was now standing in the doorway, looking in at her as she turned to him, “Oh yeah, sorry.  I just … I just saw a _spider_.”  She lied.  She _loved_ spiders.

Quinlan was standing just behind the door and if the man took any more than two steps forward, he would see him.  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Quinlan start to reach towards the canine handle of the blade that was strapped to his back.  It was Setrakian’s blade.

Webb smiled and took a step into the room, offering to ‘squash’ it for her, but she dismissed him, “Already done … Thanks though.”  She smiled at him wildly, suddenly realizing he had taken off his button up shirt and was now just in a sleeveless undershirt, likely preparing himself for sleep.  He was more muscular than the dhampir that stood on the other side of the door from him, but she could see from this vantage point that he was a few inches shorter than Quinlan.

“You know … if you still aren’t tired,” he waved a small rectangular object that he had been holding in his hand towards her, “I can stay up a bit and play some cards or something.”  His smile was almost … _inviting_.  Wait … _inviting_?!  Dawn blushed as she saw Quinlan finish reaching for the handle, and he gripped it tightly now, considering whether he should pull it out.

“Maybe some other time.  Thanks though.”  She smiled back, “I’m gonna actually get some rest.  I didn’t realize how tired I was.”  Walking to the door, she prompted him to step back from it.

“You bet.  I’ll be _right here_ if you change your mind.”  She could swear he almost winked at her as he turned to head back to the couch.  She waited until he sat down before she shut the door and turned to the dhampir who had finally relaxed his grip on the blade’s handle, his brows still furrowed.  He stepped away from the shadows and pulled his hood back away from his face.

“ _I do **not** like him_.”  Quinlan whispered as soon as the door clicked entirely shut.

“Yeah _well_ … You don’t like _anyone_.”  She offered as she turned to smile at him, but she found he had moved away from her.

“That is **_untrue_**.”  He seemed almost insulted by her remark, but she didn’t care.  It was so good to see him again.

“Where have you been?”  She attempted to step forwards, but he retreated even further, back towards the window from which she assumed he had come.

“I have been _close_.”

“Dutch has been arrest–”  She was trying to speak as low as possible.

“I am _already_ aware.”  She blinked at his conciseness.  He would not look directly at her and his entire demeanour was … _off._  Was he _mad_ at her?  She stepped back from him, not attempting to approach again.  Her eagerness to see him was quickly fading as she folded her arms, remembering how callous he could be.  Whatever rapport they had shared seemed to have dissipated since she’d been out.

“We need to get her out, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps … _eventually_.”

Dawn furrowed her brows, “What do you mean _eventually_?”

“This location is well fortified, I believe it is best if everyone stays here for the time being.”

“Dutch is in jail, Qu–”

“She is _safe_ there.”

“If there is an attack … she won’t be _safe_.”  Dawn tried to plead with him quietly.

“If there is an attack pending, I will give warning…”  He moved towards the window now and she shot forward, grabbing his arm.

“Wait, you are gonna leave!?”  She wasn’t sure she was being very quiet anymore.

“I need to check the perimeter.  I promise I will be _close_.”  Quinlan tried to turn back to the window and she tugged on his arm yet again.

“We need to leave this place …”  She tried one last time as he placed his boot against the window will.  “ _It_ will find us all here …”

Quinlan stopped his movement out the window, “ _Yes_.  Eventually.”

“Us … _me … **me**_ being here, puts these people at risk …”

Quinlan turned, stepping fully back into the room, “ _Yes_.  And their presence will give the best distraction should they find us and we must escape.”

She was shocked at this logic.  He wanted to use all of these people, these civilians and military as a _distraction_ for them … as _camouflage_ for them?

“I … I don’t like that plan.”

“You are safer here, _with **them**_.  This _discussion_ is over.”   _With them?_

“I don’t need your permission to leave, _Mr. Quinlan_.”

He flicked his head towards the living room, “It does not seem as though they would agree with your departure either.”

His boot was on the sill again, preparing himself for the three story jump, and she asked, “Are you mad at me or something?”  She fully expected him to ignore her question and leave, but he pulled back into the room again.  “If you just wanted me to stay put, why did you even come here tonight?”

Quinlan rolled his head around in an agitated motion, sighing heavily, “I am _not_ angry.  I … I am _relieved_ you are awake.  I came here to make sure you were … _alright_.”  He turned and met her eyes, his anger seeming to have abated.  “But why are you not?”

She blinked at the question.  Why was she not _what_?  Her head tilt conveyed her question without the need to address it with actual verbalized words.

“Why are _you_ not **_angry_**?”

She blinked again, “Why would _I_ be angry?  At what?  At _you_?”  This argument was starting to get tedious.

Staring down to the overly worn carpeted ground, it was impossible for him to conceal from her the shame was apparent in his stance, “What … what _I_ did to _you_ … _again_.”  The end of the sentence was more of a hiss than a word.

Wait … What?  Did he think that he … _oh no …_

She reached out to console him suddenly and he moved just out of her reach, not looking not shifting his gaze from the floor, “ _You_ didn’t do _anything_ to _me_ , Quinlan.”

She suddenly understood.  He had been expecting her to be angry with him.  He had been preparing for it and his standoffish attitude conveyed the anxiety that he felt over that fact clearly now as he spoke again, rattling slightly as the emotion of his words could not be entirely silenced, _“I did.  I **forced myself** on you … **again** …_ ”

 

* * *

 

He considered stepping away from her next attempt to reach for him, but he did not.  Her hand touched the sleeve of his coat directly over his right arm, his right hand gripping the side of the window frame.

“That’s _not_ what happened.”

He looked up to her eyes finally, so very happy to see them awake and massively confused to see them _concerned_ for **_him_** , “It _is_ what happened.”  He whispered fiercely as she stepped closer to him again.  Did she not _remember_?  Perhaps there was too much blood loss … _“Do you not recall?_ ”

“I _do_ remember … I remember _giving_ you blood. I remember every–”  She had been reaching up to touch his cheek, when Quinlan pulled away from her sharply, staring back at her, completely bewildered.  She … _willingly_ gave _him_ her blood?  No.   _No_.

“No …”  He tried to deny it, but he knew he didn’t remember _anything_.  Why would she have done that?  She … “ _Why_?”  He questioned suddenly, furiously, heatedly.  He had not been angry before, but _now_ he was, “Why would you have done that?!”  His voice raised.

Dawn’s index finger came to her lips as she tried to hush his sudden volume increase and he attempted a furious whisper next, gripping her shoulders and shaking her gently as he spoke, “You _almost_ died!  I almost _killed_ you!”  He knew his words were not entirely accurate.  He had _killed_ her.  There was almost nothing left and if the Professor hadn’t been at the bunker …

_Oh gods._

“You _were_ dying … I couldn’t let you _die_ … ”  She stuttered, not even trying to pull out of his grip as he would have assumed she would.  “It was a good idea at the time …”  She tried to shrug, but his hands were firmly on her shoulders still.

“I have lived a long time … _my life_ –”

“Is more important than _mine_.”  She interrupted and he released his hold on her as she stepped back from him, seemingly astonished by the words that had escaped her own mouth.  He had made her feel ashamed, he could sense it as he watched her look down before she spoke, “Tell me, _Mr. Quinlan_ , are you angry because I risked my life … or are you angry because you were looking forward to _eternity_ finally?”

Quinlan shifted in his stance.  He hated how easily she could diffuse his anger.  He understood her implication and he knew she did not ask it out of spite or anger because all he heard was concerned curiosity and sadness in her question.  Was there anything he could say at this point that she might believe?

Had he wished for death in the past?

> _Yes, many times.  He looked forward to it for many, many years._

Had he wished for it since he had come back from the factory that night?

> _He couldn’t remember specifically anymore, but he wasn’t sure he had._

Had he wished for it in that stairwell?

> _**No**.  He would not have left her in that situation, but he knew it went beyond that.  He did not wish to leave her at all._

“You know we can’t do _this_ without _you_.”  She waited for him to speak, but he could not.  He had no idea how to express the madness that coursed through him at _this_ moment.  He did not feel like his life meant more than hers.

She spoke again, “Besides, _your world wasn’t meant to end with a whimper._ ”  Ah yes, the poetry was bad.  He had missed it.  The implication with that statement was more profound than either would realize, for if it didn’t end with a _whimper_ , it would end with a _bang_.

His voice was no longer angry as he stepped forward, attempting to reach for her face, “I do not wish _my world_ to end at all anym–”

The handle on the door was fast to open and the Corporal stood in the doorway as he flicked on the light to the room but Quinlan had already hit the ground below with complete silence.  She turned to look out the window, but he was already out of her view and back into the shadows of the nearest tree line.  He stood so that he could still see into the room as he listened to the young man question her.

“Hey, everything alright in here?”  He looked around the room quickly, “I coulda sworn I heard a guy’s voice …”

“No.  Just me.”  She looked at him like he was crazy and attempted her most innocent lie, but Quinlan could hear the hesitation in it.  He was happy to hear her voice again.

“Alright then,”  the Corporal looked around her room suspiciously, “I’ll be out here if you _need_ me.”

Quinlan listened as the man returned to his place on the couch, but first requested that she leave the door open this time.  She stood at the window for a while before finally retreating to bed.

He did **_not_** like the _young man_.  He’d watched from the shadows as the soldier followed her earlier to the apartments and he stayed conspicuously far enough so that he could _watch_ her walk from behind, bobbing his head in rhythm with her steps.  Remembering this caused him to sneer a rattle as he knew all too well what some men were capable of during times of war.  He needed to walk the perimeter, but decided he would wait until he was sure the young man was _completely_ asleep first.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan walked around the base three times and then spiraled out several miles from there.  He had been spending most of his nights in the hospital room and now he would have more time _to kill_ , so to speak.  He had been careful to dispatch any scouts without being seen, but he knew eventually the _Master_ would take note of it.  He was also assuming that as the _Master_ ’s reach grew and the war with man raged on, his _father_ would not notice for a while … at least.

His faith that she would wake had waned over the last few days, but he really didn’t have a plan for what they, or more specifically he, would do next, much to _Goodweather_ ’s dismay.  He had spent the last weeks blaming himself for what had occurred, and his judgement was savage and unforgiving.  She would be safer with _them_ than with _him_ , but now his first instinct was to take her and leave the others here.  But considering that even now he had no idea where they would go as it was difficult to postulate how far across the world the _Master_ ’s dominion had spread.

He thought about the Doctor’s desire to use her as **_bait_** , and the consideration of it still made him rattle.   _No_.  He wasn’t sure what it all meant yet but the revelations made him feel uneasy.  For the first time since _Ancharia_ had told him of his _destiny_ , he wasn’t sure what his purpose was any longer and the voice had not spoken to him again since he’d refused its request to let her _die_.   ** _Coward_**.

Quinlan thought about _that_ destiny now, comparing it with his experience at the pond and what he had **_felt_** that day.  Something had been there, watching him, smiling at him, but it wasn’t simply that.  No, he believed that it was there to _tell_ him something.  Her eyes might have just been a coincidence.  Her first name, maybe even just as much, but her last name as well?  He’d been through the Highlands a number of times hunting, and he knew the crest of the Maxwell family was a **_stag_**.  As the Professor had become fond of saying before he passed: _There were no coincidences, only eventualities._

Had it been _Diana_ or even _Terra_ , herself?  No, he did not believe in _gods_ or _goddesses_ anymore.  Although he also had not believed in _Divine Beings_ … He grunted to himself, not enjoying the childish thoughts that pranced through his mind.  He was _too old_ to believe in things like this.   _Gods, Angels, Prophecies … Destinies._

He spiraled out farther and farther from the camp, using bursts of speed to cover more ground.  He had to remind himself not to exhaust too much, or _Goodweather_ would get frustrated with him feeding on more soldiers.  The red headed Doctor was suspicious indeed, he’d listened to her conversations many times outside of Ephraim’s company.  She did not believe the story that _Goodweather_ had weaved of the _Poet’s_ injuries.

No, this was still the safest place to be as he recalled what had occurred in the tower and what the _Master_ had left for him.  That was the closest to death that he had ever been, and she had pulled him back from it … again.  He underestimated his _father_ and that would not happen again.  They needed to bide their time here a bit longer.

Eventually, he found his way back to the little metal trailer that had become his home for the last several weeks.  Abandoned and distressed, it provided a dry space away from the sun.  Its lack of insulation also made it perfect for him to hear anything moving around for miles. He surveyed and catalogued the stash of weapons and ammunition that he had been building from their poorly guarded armory before he sat on the dirty bed and considered many things again and again.

Mostly, he considered his _destiny_ …

 

* * *

 

She was blowing in the wind.  It was a fierce and powerful breeze.  It flung her from side to side and she could not control her own motion.  She was just a part of something that swayed to and fro.

She can hear herself reciting to the beauty of it …

 

> _Shape without form, shade without colour,_
> 
> _Paralysed force, gesture without motion;_

 

This was always how it started … _always_.  She had no form that she could control, she was simply part of the flurry itself.  Moving and dancing with everything around her, she was _attached_ , and even in the chaos of this torrential gust, she was a piece of something more than just herself …

She could hear them.

          She could still hear them.

                   Here … she was not alone.

 

> _Our dried voices, when_
> 
> _We whisper together_
> 
> _Are quiet and meaningless_

 

Just a piece of the white flurry, waltzing back and forth.

 

> _And voices are_
> 
> _In the wind’s singing_
> 
> _More distant and more solemn_
> 
> _Than a fading star._

 

Eventually she would see the knife and sometimes the hand that wielded it would be _red_ , but most of the time, it was **_white_**.  When she would see it, she had no mouth from which to scream.  When the knife cut her free, she had no eyes from which to cry.   When the wind would tear her from her sanctuary, she had no arms with which to hold on.  The wind was a vicious and callous _thing_ and it only cared for its own goals.

But it was in this detachment that she would see with clear eyes what she had flown away from.  She had been so tiny before, as an ant could not see the mountain upon which it lived, she could not see the white serpent until the wind had torn her away from it … away from him.  And now, floating so far above, she could see there were two, one red and one white, battling beneath her as she drifted free of their conflict, the breeze pushing her out, farther from them, towards …

> “Max!”

The voice was forceful, but it didn’t stop her drifting.  The drift was so _nice_ … but it was _quiet_ … but it was _lonely_.

> “MAX!”

The voice was male and loud, but it didn’t halt the wind from carrying her even farther from the battle still.  Pushing her towards … _something_.  Easing her towards … _someone_.  She could see the black hand reaching for her but she had nothing to grasp it with.

> _“MAX!”_

She felt the shaking now and as she sat up in the bed as the apartment around her came into sharp and agonizing focus.  She saw the hazel eyes staring back at her.  The Corporal was shaking her violently.  She knew she had been screaming and he was concerned.

> “Hey … HEY!”

She pulled back from him as she rubbed the sweat from her forehead.

“Are you O.K.?  You were _screaming_ … You were having–”

“ _A nightmare_.”  She finished and she cringed … not again.  It had been so long, but she remembered this feeling … she remembered this _dream_.  Suddenly she remembered Quinlan’s questions about the mark and she remembered when these dreams had stopped before as she looked down to her wrist where her mark had once been.

_The night terrors were back._

 

* * *

 

The next day seemed to _fly_ by.  Webb took her back to the brick building and she assumed that she would get another _shadow_ , but he came out of the office quite pleased with himself.

> “Looks like you’ll be stuck with me for a couple of days.”  When he smiled big, an impressively sized dimple was visible on his left cheek.  She’d missed that before.
> 
> “Don’t you have better things to do?”
> 
> “I just got out of them.”  Quite pleased with himself indeed.

He took her back to the hospital tent next where Dr. Rubinstein had requested she be back for a check up.

Her questions were fishing and prodding.

> “You’re still running a mild fever.”
> 
> “I feel fine.”  This was true.
> 
> “How’s your head?”
> 
> “Fine.”  Again, true.
> 
> “Where were you hit again?”
> 
> “I don’t remember.”  
> 
> She tried to take blood next, but Dawn refused.  She considered forcing the issue, but let it go for today.  “O.K., but I’m not taking no for an answer tomorrow.”
> 
> _Bitch_.
> 
> “Where’s Dr. Goodweather?”
> 
> “Doing more _important_ things.”

Fair enough.  She didn’t want to talk to her anyways, and Webb escorted her back to the refugee area so that she could find her friends, but only found Gus.

> “Where’s Fet?”
> 
> “He’s … _around_.”  Gus offered.

There was something sneaky and subtle in his voice, she assumed that meant Fet was somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be and she chuckled to herself.  She desperately wanted to tell Gus she’d seen Quinlan, but there was no shaking the Corporal. _Didn’t he have to pee at some point?_!  Apparently not.

Eventually Fet did return but the presence of the soldier made them both uncomfortable for some reason so she eventually left late in the afternoon, with her shadow in tow, promising she would come back the next day.  If Quinlan thought they were going to stay here long term, he was mistaken.  She didn’t like being constrained like this and she could tell the boys didn’t either.  She needed to find Ephraim and Dutch.

On the way back to the apartments, Webb finally spoke up, “You know … if you’re bored, I can make a _suggestion_ … “  He always seemed to be pleased with himself.

“Oh yeah?”

“ _Yeah_ … You like beer?”

 

* * *

 

Her young companion was right, at least she wasn’t _bored_ any more.

“Ah come on man, you said _you were terrible at this_.”  The black haired soldier threw his cards onto the pile and sat back in his chair as the short green-eyed woman greedily pulled the entire pile back towards her.

 _Sucker_.

Webb laughed maniacally now and smirked at his frustrated friend, “Maybe you shouldn’t play poker with a _mathematician_.”

The black haired man eyed her suspiciously, “Wait a minute.   _You are??  Are you counting cards!?!_ ”

The implication was that she was cheating, but she _really_ wasn’t.  She was actually _terrible_ at card counting in her head.  Maybe if she had a sheet of paper and they gave her five minutes after every shuffle to recalculate.

“No, I’m _not_.”  She kicked Webb’s chair who was laughing even louder now.  She wasn’t lying about being _terrible_ at poker either, she normally was, but for some reason she could tell when he was lying.  When they had all been lying.

 _Suckers_.

“Do you want another?”  Webb questioned her as he picked up her empty bottle and shook it at her.  She shook her head and acknowledged that she had probably had enough.  She was a _little_ tipsy, sure, but she was frankly surprised she wasn’t flat out drunk considering the amount she’d had.

She’d been here long enough though and she quickly surveyed the underground room for a clock, but saw none.  She was certain it was dark by now and she wanted to get back to her room in case Quinlan came back.  She thought Webb would be more disappointed to leave than he was and he was quite chatty on their walk back, most likely due to the large amount of alcohol he’d had as well.

“Can’t believe you owned Prescott.”  He was obviously pleased with her performance and he chatted with her as he skipped along the sidewalk, “That guy needed a good beating.  He’s so smug.”

“Glad I could be of assistance.”  She chuckled and clutched her arms to her chest as the brisk wind hit her in the face.

“We play a big game every Friday night, I should bring you so you can school _all of them_.”

Dawn appreciated being appreciated, but … “I don’t know if we’ll be staying that long.”  She should probably ask what day of the week it was before saying that, but then she suddenly realized she didn’t know what day of the week it had been for _months_.  It was almost comforting to be somewhere that still acknowledged the _calendar_.

He paused in his step briefly before getting a bit more serious, “What does that mean?”

“I hope my friends and I will be moving along soon.”

His smile faded, “Oh … no.  Didn’t anyone tell you?”  She blinked at him.  Was he seriously asking her this?  He’d been with her nearly the entire time that she had been awake.

“Tell me what?”

“Once you come into Detrick, you aren’t allowed to leave, Ma–,”  He chuckled at his near misspeak, “ _Max_.”

Dawn stopped her walk and looked at him, “Not _allowed_ to leave … you mean, we are _prisoners_?”

“No …”  He coaxed her into walking again, “No.  If we take you in, you are told you can’t leave.  I mean.  It makes sense, those _things_ out there … the _infected_ , they say that they can steal your memories.  It’s a safety precaution.  You understand?  They don’t want information about this place … _leaking out._ ”

All things considered, she actually did understand.  At least, from their point of view.  “What are you guys doing here?  You aren’t _fighting_ anything.”  She’d noticed no wounded, no tanks, no artillery.

He looked at her, surprised at first, “This is the Nic Burr.  We are gonna find a cure for it.  Your friend, _Goodweather_ , is working on it now.”  A cure?  Was he serious?  Can this be _cured_?

Regardless of whether she thought he was full of shit or not, she actually _did_ enjoy the fact that he was being more forthcoming with information now.  Alcohol did act kinda like a truth serum.

“Is he having _any_ luck?  Do you think I can I see him?”

“I can make some calls tomorrow.  I think we can swing that.  How’s _that_ sound?”  She nodded as they started up the stairs to the third floor.  She was easily tired around the second floor and he just bounced up the stairs merrily above her.

“ _Jesus_ , how old are _you_?”

“ _23_.”  At least she wasn’t old enough to be his mom.   _Phew_.  She pulled herself up the last stair and he opened the door for her to the hallway and then the door to her apartment after he unlocked it.  Quite gentlemanly of him actually and she stepped through ahead of him as she smiled.

He protested as she quickly retired to the room, carefully shutting the door while she sneaked over to the window and quietly opened it.  Sitting on the bed, she waited for a minute, removing her jacket as she sat nervously.  Why was she nervous?  It was just _Quinlan_.  They just needed to work on their plan, right?

She waited for two minutes, then three, and then five.  She stood and walked to the window, looking out into the darkness of the night.

“Quinlan?”  She whispered at first.  “Quinlan.”  She said louder and she stepped back from the window.   _Nothing_.  Maybe he wasn’t there at all.  Maybe he was out … what did he call it again? … _Checking the perimeter again_?

“Quinlan?”  She whispered again and there was a soft knock on the door.   _Oh shit._  She opened it to find him holding two glasses of water, smiling as he offered her one of them.

“I thought I heard you were still up.  Hey, I just thought, you know, you drank a lot, you should probably have some water.”

“ _Thanks_.”  She took it quickly and he stood unmoving.   _Oh shit, he wants to socialize_.  She reluctantly exited her room, looking back towards the open window before she did so.  He wasn’t coming anyways.

* * *

 

Quinlan stood in the trees and considered answering her calls to him, but he knew no good would come of it.  She would simply try and talk him into leaving with the others again and he was certain that this place was the safest to be right now.  For her sake … for all of their sakes.  It was fortified, as _Goodweather_ had promised, and it had more than enough weapons, supplies, and soldiers to fend off a continued assault.

He began to step away to make another sweep when he heard the young man knock on her door and he heard her open it.  Perhaps he would wait a moment longer.

He did **_not_** like that young man.

 

* * *

 

She was getting tired, but there was also a small piece of her that also enjoyed the _simple_ banter.  He wasn’t a rocket scientist or a _general_ or anything, but he seemed sweet and he was nice to look at.  She found herself giggling far too much and she blamed the alcohol for it.  The conversation wasn’t all that spectacular but he was _very good_ at asking her lots of questions and remaining engaged in her responses.

He honestly seemed to enjoy how smart she was, and that was nearly an impossible thing to find in a man.  At one point, he even spontaneously produced a small flask of whiskey, and he coaxed her into taking quite a few drinks before he polished it off finally.

“So what was it like to be in a coma?”  He questioned her, “Do you remember _anything_?  Did you hear people?  Did you dream?”

Blushing at the question, she shook her head, “No.  Nothing really.”  She hoped he couldn’t tell what a _terrible_ liar she was because she had dreamed, quite a lot actually, and she was ashamed of it all.  She’d been trying to push the memory of them from her mind since she’d awoken.  It wasn’t _healthy_ and she needed to move on.  

“Oh. _That’s boring_.”  She blushed again as she took a drink of her water.  Those dreams were _anything_ but boring.

> 
>          “ _Stop_.  Just … _stop_.”  She commanded herself roughly.

“So, what about this _Quanlin_ guy?”  The zeal at which this question left his lips meant that he had been hoping to ask it for some time now.

She almost coughed up the water which she had been trying to swallow when he asked, “What??”  She wiped the liquid that had splashed all over her face away.

“You mentioned him last night to your _friends_.”  He grinned.  He definitely paid attention to everything she said.

“Oh.   ** _Quinlan_** was … part of our …”  What is the right word for people who band together at the end of the world, she wondered.  Family?  Friends?  Troop?  “… _team_.”

“And he left?”

She nodded and looked back towards the bedroom, “I guess so.”

He nodded, continuing his gentle prodding, “Was he your boyfriend or something?”

 _Jesus … boyfriend_?  This kid really was _23_ wasn’t he?  She gave a laugh that was half sad and half amused, “No no, _nothing_ like that.  He’s … _unavailable_.”

… **_eternally_** unavailable.

She stood to walk back to her room, this line of questioning was uncomfortable now and as she attempted to say good night, he spoke over her.

“Oh.   _Good_.  What about those other two guys?”

She smiled at him as he stood also, “ _Good_??”  Was he … _no_ … was he … _hitting on her_?   _No. No._

**_No._ **

“Yeah … _Good_.  It means I have _less_ competition.”   _What the hell_ … was he seriously _this_ straightforward?

“Competition?  Uh no.  I’m old enough to be your mom.”  She lied.  Did this _seriously work_ for him in the past?  He smiled and flashed his dimple to her and suddenly she realized … _yes, yes it did work._

“No you aren’t.   _Don’t lie._  I saw your file.”  He said and then shrugged, “Besides, I like my women more … _mature_ anyways.”  He moved towards her, flashing his dimpled smile again.  

> 
>          “ _Mature_?  Huh … that’s actually kind of an _insult_ , isn’t it?”  She said to herself.

She wasn’t _that_ much older than him.   Looking beyond that though … was he serious?  Did he really find _her … desirable_?  She scoffed at the thought, and it came across in her flustered response, “And _why_ would _that_ be?”

“They tend to be less … _clingy_.”  He set down his glass down on the table as he continued his advancement.  There was something different in his eyes at that moment.  Something sneaky, almost inviting.  Something … _hungry_.  “You aren’t _clingy_ , are you, _Max_?”  She kinda liked how he had shortened Maxwell into a playful nickname, but she shook her mind back to reality.

“I try not to be … _no_.”  She thought about how she had basically _forced_ Quinlan to continue to train her after her _unfortunate_ decision in the tunnel and she cringed.  “ _No_.  I’m not.”  Or at least she promised herself she wouldn’t be again in the future.

“They also tend to be more … _adventurous_.”  His smile disappeared for a moment before it came back along with some thought that had crossed his mind.  He stepped towards her again.

 _Adventurous_?  What exactly did _that_ mean?  “ _Adventurous_?”  She questioned and she found herself stepping back from him suddenly.  Oh … crap.

“Are you the _adventurous_ type … _Max_?”  He returned the questioning as he stepped forward again, never taking his eyes from her lips as he spoke, biting his own lower lip softly at the end of that query.

 _Shit_ , he was good and her heart thundered with a pounding which was a combination of both fear _and_ hunger.  She wasn’t even sure what type of _hunger_ this was at first, but she realized all at once, it was simple: to be desired.

She hadn’t led him on, _had she_?  On some level, she thought she might have, but the flirtations had gone both directions.  Generally … _for a woman … **like her**_ … it wasn’t _real_ flirting and Webb was _so far_ out of her league, she hadn’t really considered any real consequence to it until now.  She admitted she had been enjoying the attention he was giving her; he was _very_ good at it.

She _should_ stop him.  She _should_ shoot him down right now.   _She just had to say it:  No, she was not adventurous … she was tired, right?_   _She should get some rest._  Besides, this wasn’t what she wanted … _was it?_

He approached again and her inviting retreat eventually connected her back with the wall.  There was no where else to go and she gulped as he reached his hands up to cup her face, bending down to kiss her as he did.

Wait … Was he **_really_** going to _kiss_ her?  She questioned what was happening in her mind immediately.  Did he _really_ want to actually … **_kiss_** … _her_?  She swore it was as if time itself slowed down and she watched him bending down to her.

If she had just wanted _this_ , she could have gotten it from Quintus, but she remembered this feeling.  How she felt that night that he approached her the same way, her back against the wall and her heart pounding, expecting his lips but being completely denied them.

> “Stop this _right now_ … he’s _watching_.”  It was that damn dark voice again, humming from the back of her mind.

_Does it matter?_ she thought to the voice.  She remembered his words _that_ night, which was not very long ago to her right now.  As painful and honest as they had been, he had told her she _deserved_ to find someone who might love her as he loved someone else.  Webb obviously wasn’t _this_ person, but maybe he was a step in the right direction.

The voice’s presence had reminded her that she had chosen to come back, _to change_ , after all, then she needed to move past these childish feelings, right?  Ellie was _wrong_ , her emotions _did_ make her weak, they always had.

But however much she struggled to enact control over this situation, as she closed her eyes when his lips met hers, she was immediately ashamed it wasn’t Webb that she was imagining herself kissing.

_Damn it._


	92. 13.5 - Repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone thinks this is **OOC** for Quinny, know that Romans had fuckin’ **FILTHY** mouths.
> 
> <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Latin_profanity>
> 
> <https://www.google.cl/amp/www.theatlantic.com/amp/article/276397/> (Thanks to [@quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/) for this link)
> 
> Also, I had a ton of fun researching and writing this part. Sorry its so short, but it packs a good punch or two. (Pun intended.)
> 
> I highly recommend following the links I’ve sprinkled about.

Quinlan was  already in the bedroom when he heard her stand from the couch and he was immediately relieved.  He understood there was a certain amount of jealousy that festered within him while he had listened to their extended conversation from below, but he could also read that the _boy_ was manipulating the conversation with her, steering her around subjects to make her feel more relaxed around him … more appreciated.

 His frustration with the situation began to escalate when he mentioned _Quinlan_ ’s name _incorrectly_.   _This had been on purpose_ … _calculated_.  He decided it would be best to speak to her tonight after all, to at least warn her to be careful with the soldier and his prying, silver tongue.

 He listened intently with his head cocked to the left as the young man stood and then approached her in the other room.  His nostrils flared and another violent twitch erupted as he heard something bump the wall, followed by the sound of _their lips_.  Quinlan’s eyes widened as he lost control of his English thoughts and his mind reverted to his native language.

  ** _[Deodamnatus](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)_**.

 “So _Max_ , are you?”  He did **_not_** like the nickname, it caused him to twitch each and _every_ time he heard it.

 She stuttered and Quinlan detected much uncertainty in her voice, “Am I _what_?”  He heard her swallow.

“ _Adventurous_.”

“I think you’d have to defin–”  The young man cut off her question with another _kiss_ and Quinlan twitched yet again.

**_[Vae!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may) _ **

Why was she not pushing him away yet?  He listened as the boy picked her up and the footsteps suggested they were coming into this room.  Quinlan looked towards the window quickly and considered leaving … _briefly_ as he knew he had _no right_ to be _jealous_.  He had _said_ cruel things to her.  He had _done_ cruel things to her.  He had _pushed_ her away so many times.  He had _told_ her to find someone else …

**_[No.  Pedicabo hoc bastardus.](https://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#la/en/No.%20%20Pedicabo%20hoc%20bastardus.) _ **

  

He swifty stepped behind the door and was relieved when the _boy_ didn’t turn the lights on as they entered the room.  He was completely unsure of exactly what he was planning, but perhaps he could get her attention and she would end this … _seduction_.

However Quinlan could see that her eyes were closed tightly and she did not open them even as she spoke after he let her slip out of his grip, pushing her up against the far wall of the bedroom not far from the dhampir’s hidden spot.  Her voice still quaked with uncertainty, “I … _uh_ … I don’t know what you mean by _adventurous_.”

Quinlan twitched again.  He didn’t like **_that_** word either and he also didn’t like that he could smell her now … that the man’s touch had enticed her somewhat and now he _regretted_ not leaving out of the window as he had considered earlier.  He might be able to still do so, to run by without their notice, but he also realized he couldn’t move from the spot, even as he willed himself to do so.

 

* * *

 

She felt shameful that she kept her eyes shut both times he had kissed her.  She didn’t want to look at him even now because it would ruin her fantasy, but she was going to stop _this_.   _This_ was starting to border on _creepy_ again and he wasn’t what … _who_ … she wanted.

_Damnit_.

“Actually, I’m sorry … I don’t think this is a good id–”  She started to say, but he spoke over her loudly.  She knew he had heard her.

“I mean … are you a _naughty girl,_ _Max_?”   _Wait … What?_  She did open her eyes now, but he was already turning her around as he pushed her forcefully against the wall face first.  The shock of the action prevented her from reacting immediately.

“Are you a _slutty girl, Max_?”  He breathed into her ear from behind.

“I … _uh_ … What?”   _Uh oh_ … she didn’t think she was his type of _adventurous_ after all as she tried to turn back around.  She really should have gotten a definition of it back in the living room after all.  She laughed a little, “I’m _really_ not, I think–”

“Really?   _Fucking some guy you just met_ … _That’s naughty … That’s slutty_ …”, she felt his hand grab her ponytail tightly as he yanked it back hard, and _not_ in a good way but in a rough way that was NOT pleasing and he followed this action immediately with a hard slap as his hand connected with her butt.

“Ow!”  She yelped in pain but not in a fun, playful way.  It was a hard hit that she had been unprepared for so there was nothing sexy about it and she had decided that was enough.  “ _Naughty girls needs to be punishe–_ ”

_Enough._ She was going to attempt to reason with him one more time before this needed to get physical.  He still seemed like he was being playful and she didn’t _really_ want to have to **_hurt_** him.  It was currently just a _misunderstanding_ and she’d led him on to some degree, but his sentence was cut short as his forehead connected with the wall to the right side of her head and his body crumpled to the ground at her feet.  As she spun around, Quinlan stood with eyes wide as he stared down at the young man, breathing out heavily.

**_“[Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo!](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catullus_16)”_**  

he spat at the man as he lay there unmoving for a moment before starting to finally groan, grabbing at his forehead as he rocked from side to side.

Holy shit … _Holy shit. **Holy shit!**_

“Quinlan!  Oh my **_GO_** –”  She didn’t know if she shouted in a whisper but it was too late, his boot was already into Webb’s right side and the sound of the crack was hard to deny, the dhampir’s eyes wide with a kind of anger she’d never seen from him before.

**_“[Futue te ipsum!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”  _** He spat on the man again as the _Latin_ continued to flow freely from of him.  Webb attempted to roll over onto all fours and Dawn tried to place herself between the dhampir and his prey, but Quinlan effortlessly pushed her to the side with his forearm as he continued his assault, giving the man a right punch directly to his jaw, sending him back down to the ground with a thump.

**_“[Es scortum obscenus vilis](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)!”_**    Quinlan rattled violently.

_Holy fuck, he’s killing him._  Yet, deep down, she understand that if he had wanted him _dead_ , he simply would be already.  Quinlan was hurting him, however the revelation of this did not ease her panic.   _What the fuck was he doing?!_

  

“Quinlan!  Stop!”  She hissed, uselessly pulling on his arm as he bent down to the man, who was struggling to get to his own feet.

**_“Oh, you wish to stand?!  *rattle*  Let me help you … *twitch*”_**  Finally something in English, perhaps he was calming down.  The young man rolled back on his knees to look up when Quinlan gripped him with fistfulls of his shirt, viciously pulling him to his feet as he flung him back against the wall.  Webb’s head whiplashed back as it connected with the brick behind and he finally got a look at what was striking him.

His eyes grew wide with shock, “ _Oh fu–_ ”.  Webb _finally_ attempted to grab for his sidearm and Quinlan _waited_ until the man had it in his hand fully before he grabbed the human’s wrist, twisting it savagely and effortlessly around until it cracked and the gun flew to the other side of the room.

“ _So you enjoy punishment?_ ** _[Docebo vos verae poenae!](https://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#la/en/Docebo%20vos%20verae%20poenae!)_** ” _Oh fuck_ … more _Latin_.  He twitched violently before hitting the young man again in the opposite side that he had kicked moments before and Dawn heard another crack followed by a pathetic whimper from Webb as he doubled over.  The dhampir was kind enough to help him stand straight up again.

“ _Sertorius!  Oh Go–_ ”  She pulled at his fists clenching the man’s shirt.

**_“[Tu es Lupa](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may),”_**  He said as he grabbed the man’s throat, squeezing until Webb gasped for breath and attempted to scratch at his gloved hand.

“Quinlan!  People will hear!”  Would he listen to reason?  She tugged violently at his arm now, “Please Stop!”   _No, he wouldn’t._

**_“[Futue te ipsi, moecha putida!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”_**  He said as he release his throat and grabbed both sides of the man’s head by his ears, ramming it back hard against the wall behind him and sending him crumpling to the ground yet again.  He spat on the boy again from above, **_“[Fragmen stercore!](https://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#la/en/Fragmen%20stercore!)”_**

Dawn turned her attention to Webb this time, instead of Quinlan, throwing herself on his limp form as she stared up to the dhampir with pleading eyes, _“Please …_ stop _.”_

>    “This is on **_you_**.”  The dark voice hummed.

_Fuck off,_ she told it. _  
_

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened … well … _not exactly._  Quinlan maintained control in all aspects of his life, except it seemed where she had been concerned.  He could count on a single hand the number of times that he had lost his temper to the point of blinding rage, and there would still be fingers left.  He honestly wasn’t sure the outcome would have been _any_ different if the man hadn’t _hit_ her, but it had at least sped up his reaction to this _inconvenience_.

Now as his anger slowly abated staring down into her giant and terrified dragonfly eyes, he struggled to regain control of himself by catching his breath.  Taking several steps back as he struggled to slow his heart rate which beat savagely within his chest, he stared down to his hands which still shook from the adrenaline of it all.

_Damnation_.

Quinlan threw his hood back and began to pace slightly around the room as she turned her attention to the beaten soldier.  Pulling him over, she saw the blood that was seeping from the back of his skull.  

“What is _wrong_ with you!?”  She was disgusted with his actions as she pulled the Corporal over onto his back to verify he still breathed.

Quinlan hissed in a rattled response, “He was _hurting_ you.”  He twitched uncontrollably now.

“No he _wasn_ ’t.”  She retorted, smoothing Webb’s hair out of his bleeding face.

“He was **_HURTING_** you.”  Quinlan stopped pacing long enough to say as he stared directly at her.

“You had _no right._  I can take care of myself.”  He scoffed a hiss at her response, waving a dismissive hand towards her as he returned to his mindless pacing.

“You are _inebriated_.”  He attempted to excuse his actions, flaring his nostrils as he did.  He knew it was not _entirely_ true, she was quite clear headed.

Any plan that he had of staying here was now entirely destroyed.  In all of five seconds, _she’d_ … no … **_he’d_** ruined it and now they needed to think fast as he heard the people in the next apartment conversing about the commotion.

Webb coughed slightly and she tried to pull him to a sitting position as he spoke, “What _the fuck_ is that _thing_?” He managed as Quinlan rolled his head and walked towards the man again.   _That thing? **That thing?**_

**_“[Potes meos suaviari clunes!](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)”_**  He hissed at the boy as he advanced with the intent to kick the downed soldier yet again.  

She bolted to her feet quickly and pressed against his chest with both palms, trying to halt his advancement.  “ _Please!  Enough!!_ ”  She pleaded.

Quinlan found himself unfinished still, **_“[Mea est!  Fur!](https://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#en/la/She%20is%20mine!%20%20Thief!)”_**  His own words seemed to shake himself free of _this_ fit as the shame of them set in. _Mea est?_  He hadn’t meant _those_ words to escape and he was immediately glad that she did not speak his language.  He looked down to her before he turned his back to the quivering little mound on the floor and began his hapless pace again.

She knelt at the man again, attempting to help him stand and he pulled out of her grip, throwing himself back against the wall, “ _You are with **that thing**!_ ”  His disgust directed towards her was obvious and she stood taking several steps back from him.  Quinlan saw the sadness in her face and this caused his anger to boil yet again.

“Watch your tongue, _swine_ … she is the _only reason_ you still breath.”  He rattled with nearly every word he hissed.  He quickly realized they had to leave now as he could hear the neighbors trying to decide which of the two would come over to ask if everything was _alright_.

“We must go … **_now_**.”   A brutal thought crossed his mind as he walked back towards the wounded man, “He has seen _me_.  He will warn the others.  I shall make it _quick_.”  Webb heard the words and understood their meaning as he pulled himself back towards the wall, curling into a ball of fear.

Her eyes grew massively wide with panic as she reached out for his arm, pulling on it forcefully, using more strength than he thought she was capable of.  He swung back, facing her, as she stated loudly, “ **NO**.”

Her brow was furrowed, her eyes were wet with pending tears and Quinlan released any amount of residual anger as she looked at him with eyes he’d never seen before.  This was the _first_ , _last,_ and _only_ time she would ever truly look at him like he was a _monster_.

 

* * *

 

“I … “ He sighed, “I am _sorry_.”  His head bowed in sweet surrender as his shoulders relaxed and he placed his hand on hers which still gripped his arm.  She was relieved to see Quinlan revert to his old self almost immediately and he pressed his forehead against hers so gently, closing his eyes as he did so, just as he had on the roof.  “ _Forgive me.”_

The moment was short lived as he pulled back, “People are coming, we _must_ leave.”  He approached his prey again and she begged now.

“Quinlan … _please don’t_.”  He didn’t have to look at her to know there were tears behind these words.

“I will _not_ , but he cannot be left this way.  We need time.  Please help me restrain him.”  He knelt at the man as he pulled something familiar from his coat pocket and she blinked at it.  It was a spindle of silvery tape.

“Is that … _**Duct Tape**?_ ”  She asked and he turned back to her, momentarily distracted from the task at hand as he handed her the spindle. “Are you carrying around _Duct Tape??”_

“Yes.  I have _learned_ it is quite _useful_.”  He flashed a genuine smile to her.  The terribleness of the _situation_ almost melted away entirely as she giggled at his grin and he held the Corporal’s ankles together for her to begin to tape.

Next, they wrapped his hands as he pleaded with them, “ _Please don’t kill me._ ”  He couldn’t take his eyes away from the dhampir’s cold face.

“Do not worry, you will _live_.”  He sneered to the soldier with true disappointment, “Remember the mercy _she_ has shown you here the next time you wish to _punish_ someon–”  Quinlan started a lecture which was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door.

_Oh shit._

  



	93. 13.6 - Repercussions

Quinlan stared down at the quivering soldier, admiring his handy work with the silver tape.   He’d used _way_ more than was necessary and wrapped it _several_ times around the boy’s entire head, eyes, and mouth.  Overall he was quite pleased with the job considering it was so rushed.  

Smirking as he fondly remembered the vast amount of tape she had haplessly surrounded his own head with at the factory, he bent over the young man who tried desperately to recoil from the dhampir’s touch and he chuckled to his prisoner, “You will have a _good time_ removing that,” knowing full well that it would not come away from his hairy skin as easily as it had Quinlan’s.

He looked back towards the shut bedroom door briefly as he listened to her trying to sway the curious man into leaving before turning back to Webb and sneering again, _“ **[Bibe semen meum.](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may)** ”_  He ended the insult by jabbing his index and middle fingers into the broken ribs of the young man causing him to whimper pathetically.  He decided it was probably not the best time to make the little _bastard_ suffer more and he stood, briefly considering kicking him again anyways.

_Calm yourself, Quintus._

Quinlan knew he had two options at this very moment if she was not successful at subduing the nosey man’s curiosity and he ran them through his mind as he retrieved the soldier’s gun, shoving it into his coat pocket.

The first option, he could hide with the young man, but the closet was not big enough.  The jump down to the ground would be messy and the jump back up would be even worse, especially in the boy’s condition.  Quinlan could hear people in the general vicinity outside as well so there would be a risk of being seen.

The other option, he could tie up the neighbor as well.  It was late enough that no one would notice their disappearance until morning.  This meant that he would also need to tie up the neighbor’s companion.

He focused on her conversation in the other room, listening as she tried to talk the man away from the door, but she really was a terrible liar, and the man was hesitant to leave, insisting he needed to look around.

The man was not easily deterred and entered the apartment, shoving himself past Dawn’s arms as she protested meekly.  She had been too nervous and flustered, he would teach her better to calm herself when they had time, although he could readily admit that right now, he was not the model of self restraint himself.

Very well, it was option two then.  Quinlan knelt to the young man, “If you alert him, I _will_ kill both of you.”  Webb nodded in compliance as the dhampir took his hunting blind from the other side of the door just as the knob turned.

The sleeper hold was quick and silent even though the man scratched at his assailant’s with his finger nails, it mattered not.  He was out within seconds and Quinlan set him on the floor carefully.  He had no ill will towards _this_ poor human, afterall.  Dawn had been watching in terrified awe from the doorway and he said to her quickly, “He will be fine, here …” He threw the tape to her again and they repeated the same procedure as they had performed on the soldier.

“Now what?”  Dawn questioned and Quinlan nodded a head towards the back wall.

“He has a companion.  We will need to retrieve her as well.”

Dawn gulped.

 

* * *

 

“O.K. … _Now what_?”  Dawn questioned yet again as they stared down at their _three_ new prisoners and Quinlan swiftly pulled his hood up as he put his finger up to his lips, instructing her to be quiet before he pulled her to him unnecessarily hard causing her to gasp with the force of it.

“Ooof!” She exhaled with the force of his action and immediately considered if it might have been because he was _still_ angry, but he picked her up slowly and carefully in his arms, cradling her tightly for the jump down the ground below.

_Damn heights._

She shuddered with moderate fear as he put his black boot on the window sill, grabbing the frame with his free gloved hand while the other held her firmly to him.  In an attempt to shield her eyes from the distance below, she buried her spotted face into his warm neck and sighed out heavily, grabbing his broad shoulders with her small hands to prepare herself.

She hadn’t meant to touch the delicate and sensitive spirals that, but she felt his body react to her breath and nose as it brushed against him.  His muscles tensed and his body twitched slightly as her tiny tickle distracted him completely from his intended jump causing him to take a step back into the room as he shut his eyes and furrowed his brows deeply.

“ _Mmmm_.”  He growled lowly to her and she tried to pull her face back from him to utter a rushed apology, but he prevented her from doing so, snugly hugging her even tighter in his arms as he pressed his own face into her soft neck, rattling a purr as he did so.

“ ** _Mmmm_**.”  He growled again burrowing his face even further into her as his rate of breath increased slightly and he took a deep breath in.  Something in that inhalation woke him from his almost intoxicated state and his eyes flashed open as his nostrils flared.

Without further hesitation, Quinlan flung himself from the window and hit the ground below, taking several steps before setting her down quickly in apparent disgust.

“What is it?” She asked of his suddenly changed attitude, worrying about something that might impede their escape.   _Had he heard something?_

Ignoring her inquest, he grabbed her hand and pulled her forcefully into the trees to the right of the building.  It was late, but there were still a good number of people walking about as he hushed her when she attempted to ask again.

She did not like it when he pulled her along like a child, through the trees, until they came through to the next large clearing and she could see the wall of the base just beyond its far edge.

“Wait, what about the others?”  She tried as he looked both ways and then began to cross the vast grass, “Quinlan, wait!”  She screamed in a whisper again, tugged for her hand back.

He was completely ignoring her and she tried to pull out of his grip, which he tightened.  When she would no longer walk, he began to drag her and she fell to her knees.  His exasperation to her display was loud and obvious.

“Stop acting like a _child_!”  He hissed at her, pulling her back up to her feet and attempting to pick her up next.

_God damn it._

_“You are the one acting like a child!”_  She pulled out of his grip finally and she flashed a massive smile, as if she’d unlocked some type of hidden achievement and he stood completely shocked that she had just done so.

Looking both directions, it was obvious that he was highly uncomfortable being out in the open while they fought, so he grabbed at her and succeeded at picking her up this time but carried her back to the tree line from which they had just come.

“ _What is wrong with you?!_   You know how to speak!”  She pushed him away from her as he set her back down.

“We have _no time_ for this.  We must go _now_.”

“What about the _others_?”

“They are on their own.”  This didn’t seem like a sudden decision or revelation to him and she was intensely appalled.

“What do you mean … _on their own_?”

“We have no time for _this_.”  He attempted to grab at her hand again and she pulled it back, flashing him a look that he remembered distinctly from the side yard when she had threatened him with the little metal gnome.

“We are _not_ going to just leave them.”

“They are not of–”  Quinlan stopped his own sentence as a couple began to walk by the sidewalk nearest to their outcropping of trees and he grabbed her arm, pulling her down to a squat quickly and attempting to hush her with another finger to his lips.

_Patience_.  They slowly meandered by and Quinlan stood again, putting his hand out as an offer to help her stand, yet she remained in her hunkered state, staring at the ground.

“Come.   _Please_.  We _must_ put distance between us.”

“Were you always going to leave them here?  When you said _eventually_ … was that a lie?”

“It is safer for them here.”

“Even now?  They know we are all _together_.”

“Yes, and if you had let me kill that man, _this_ would not be a concern.”  The eyes that she flashed him were of pure disgust.  Now her disgust with him matched his disgust with her. _Fucking great._

They had come to an impasse, it seemed.

“Don’t blame me for _what you did_ , Quinlan.”  He ducked back down quickly as another group of gentlemen approached down the path, and his speech turned from a voice to a whisper, “It was _you_ who were acting …” He seemed to trail off on some thought within his mind.

“Acting what?”  She whispered harshly back at him.

“ _Childish_.”  He barked at her finally.

“Childish?”   _Childish_?  Did that even make sense?  “I’m the _childish_ one?  You were the one who was _ignoring_ me.”

He blinked at this _accusation_ , feigning innocence, “I did not.”

She just stared at him for a moment and he retorted, obviously in an uncharacteristically flustered state, “Besides … _You_ … you would have just _argued_ with me about leaving again, so–”

Was he seriously trying to justify ignoring her because he didn’t want to give her a say in anything, “You were _ignoring_ me. _I knew it_!!!”

Quinlan’s eyes grew large as he realized he should have kept that last statement to himself, “And this justifies _your_ actions?!”  His brows furrowed maddeningly as he sneered the last part to her.

“ ** _My actions_**? What about **_my actions_** exactly?”

“Becoming _inebriated_ when you should have been retaining a clear head.  I expect such foolishness from _Goodweather_ , but not from y–”

_“I AM NOT DRUNK!”_  She hissed to him as he waved his hand for her to _lower her voice_.

The volume of her last statement caused one man in the group to pause, but as his friends walked, he jogged back to join them.

“We will discuss this _later_.  Come.”  Quinlan stood and reached a hand for her yet again, but she denied him.

 

* * *

 

She at least stood but was unmoved and his annoyance was unmistakably visible as he rolled his head, fighting the twitches that wished to escape so badly.

_Why does she do this **now**?!_  He thought angrily.

His growing fury was misplaced and he understood that even now as he argued with her in the middle of this dangerous place.  He knew exactly where the animosity had stemmed and grown.  He had held her in his arms earlier, having gotten lost in her unintentional soft touch.

As he nuzzled into her, he had sought to kiss her _finally_ … no more dreams, she was _flesh and blood_ in his arms, but then he smelled that _shithead_ on her … on her lips … on her mouth … on the skin around it all … on **_her_**.  Now he could even smell him on her clothes, under her jacket, on **_his_** shirt.  The boy rubbed his cheap cologne spray all over her when he’d picked her up.

**[Matris futuor](http://hollyoakhill.tumblr.com/post/32673016692/a-long-list-latin-swear-wordsphrasesetc-you-may).**

“You _reek_ of **_him_**!”  He sneered towards her while staring directly to her mouth throughout his words.  By the sudden change in her stance, he knew his words cut deeper than he had meant as she folded her arms to her chest, attempting to turn away from him without uttering any argument in return.  He watched as she shamefully took the cuff of her jacket, trying to wipe her mouth with it.

The remorse that he had suddenly and ruthlessly inflicted on her diffused his anger all at once, and he reach for her hand which, as he had expected, she pulled away from him.

“We can’t go, _Mr. Quinlan_.  Not without the others.”  She stared at the ground and spoke with a monotone, emotionless voice.

“We _can_ go, and we mus–”

“Do you want the Government to hunt you down?”

He tilted his head to the right, expecting to query her further on her statement, but she spoke before he could, “They know we are together, and they _know_ that I came here with the others.  The Corporal already saw you … How long do you think it will be before they know _everything_ about you?  The last time I talked to Fet, he wasn’t too happy with you.”

Yes, the Architect was very displeased with him at the moment and Quinlan thought about the logic of her words and the point she was trying to make.  Right now, the Corporal would assume he was a strigoi, but due to his actions tonight, they would undoubtedly question the others.  He was not sure how much trust would remain, especially if he just left them here.  He had governments learn of his existence in the past and it had been … _problematic_.  He was both pleased _and_ displeased that she had manipulated the conversation to her own end.

“Or, I could simply go back and get rid of the _witness_ entirely.”  He threatened her.  The neighbors had never actually seen his face, but he knew this threat was just a bluff.  He would not be that _monster_ ; he had already told her he would spare the young man.  Rolling his head in disgust over his surrender, he growled, “ _Fine_.”

 

* * *

 

He knew Dutch was in the stockade on the west side of the complex.  There were only three guards for her building at any given point in time and there were not many long term prisoners that they needed to retain more men for.  She would be the easiest to retrieve, however once she was free, alarms were more likely to be triggered.

Ephraim was working in one of the many basement floors of the biggest red brick building to the east.  He would work most of the night and eventually come back to his own apartment three buildings down from the one in which they had placed Dawn.  They would need to wait for the Doctor to leave the building; it was the best guarded on the entire base.

He knew Fet and Gus were in Tent 7, as always.  The Army was most efficient at keeping their refugees in check, only allowing known military personnel out of the fenced area.  They would need a _substantial distraction_ for that.

He was fixated on a single spot on the ground while he mulled over the options in his head and Dawn remained quiet, watching him intently.  She suddenly made Quinlan feel very nervous as she stared at him with her wide and pensive eyes.

At the very least, they would need to wait until Ephraim was out of the bowels of that building before acting on anything, which gave Quinlan time to take her some place safer.  It would not be impossible, but the last thing he needed to be worrying about during its execution was her safety.

He cringed at the next part, because he expected she would argue with him.  “I have a plan, but I will need to leave you out of it.  There is a place not far from here.  I will need to pick up a few supplies anyways.”

She blinked at him initially and then slowly nodded.  Wait, there was no argument??  He reached out for her hand and now she complied this time causing him to grin slightly.   _Good_.

They stood and began to walk across the massive grassy area again to the wall when he first noticed the strange texture of the grass and then heard the shuffling movements on the far east side.  He had been entirely distracted by their fight earlier to have noticed it all.

A voice called out suddenly from behind the trees to the west of them.

“Light ‘em up, boys!”  UV light flashed the yard, temporarily blinding Quinlan as he put his hand up to shield his face and at the same time forcing her behind him before he heard a distant rifle fire.  The reality of the situation set in quickly but he didn’t have much time to plan as he was still adjusting to the light that flooded over them and he had no idea if the shot was for him or her.

He spun around and pushed them both to the ground as a chuck of the grass to the left of their heads tore open.  Quinlan squinted as he realized it was not a bullet, but a dart of some kind.  From this vantage point, he was able to get a closer look at the grass and he realized the strange texture he’d felt was a wire mesh that had been spread entirely over it.

“Fry ‘em up, boys!”  The older voiced called again and the rifle fired again.

_Damnation_.

He pulled her up and ran as quickly as he could as time seemed to slow down around him and he could see the wire mesh start to glow an amber hue on the outside sides, moving towards them with an impressive speed and electrifying hum.

It was vast, covering the entire area and they had waited until they were in the center to spring the trap.  If he had a head start, if he had known he would be jumping from the start instead of running then he might have been able to cross the distance needed by himself, but he doubted he would have been able to with her in tow.

He’d been electrocuted before and it was a vicious pain, but he thought he would likely survive, however she would likely not.

And though time seemed to slow for everything around Quinlan, the hum of the impending voice seemed to be in tune with his own internal clock, as was the voice that followed it.

##  **“She’s tougher than she looks now.”**

It was the _coward_ ’s voice … he had not heard it in weeks, but he took the hint and he chucked her towards the edge of the grass while he ran at full speed causing her to soar before him.

_Forgive me_ … he apologized just as the amber color of the mesh enveloped under his feet, sending agonizing pulses through his entire body and he crumpled onto it.

**_Damnation!!!_ **

 

* * *

 

She had heard the humming and then voice tell him she was tougher than she looked now.  She remembered the voice from the gym that day, but this time it was clear and not overwhelming.

She felt him throw her forwards and she gasped right before hitting the ground with her left shoulder, and rolling for what seemed like a lifetime before she came to a stop and staggered back to her feet.  Men were around her, pointing their guns and she turned back towards the field that was burning a fierce ember hue before it clicked off.

She could see Quinlan laying on the mesh, still and smoking.  She attempting to push her way through the men, shoving their guns to the side even as they screamed at her.

“Quinlan!  _Quinlan_!”  She called but he didn’t move.  At some point, in her muddled walk, through the soldiers who screamed, back to the end of the grass, a man attempted to grab her shoulder and she turned quickly, kicking him into his knee as she had always done in the past, however this time she heard a sickening crack as the man fell to the ground.

_Fuck_.

She was surrounded now and being told to get to her knees, hands behind her head.

     GET TO HER KNEES.  HANDS BEHIND HER HEAD!   _  
_

_GET TO HER KNEES.  HANDS BEHIND HER HEAD!_

_**GET TO HER KNEES.  HANDS BEHIND HER HEAD!**  
_

She turned back and he seemed so far away now, limp on the ground.  She witnessed another group of men swarm him just as his right arm begin to move and they shot down at him in unison as they circled him above.

She heard shot after shot _after shot_ and she watched Quinlan’s body twitch and move slightly on the ground with each one until he moved no longer.  Her mind swam with tormented anguish and untameable thoughts …

##  _Her mind swam with **rage**_.

> _Do not go gentle into that good night.  
>  Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Everything became a blur and she could no longer focus on any one thing around her.  They still screamed for her to get down, but everything was so far away, except _that_ hum as she fell to knees.

“No … No … “  That _hum_ … louder … LOUDER … _LOUDER … **LOUDER**._

Tears streamed down her face as the men who had circled her, threatening her with their guns, began to fall to their knees, clutching their heads …

> _… all the men_
> 
> _… to their **fucking knees**.  _

The hum was almost unbearable yet it grew louder and _louder_.  She heard people everywhere screaming … Wait … was it the people screaming?

_Yes_ and _no_ … it was also her.  She was _screaming_.  She was _crying_.

     LOUDER … _LOUDER … **LOUDER**._

“Nooooooooooooo!”  Everything shifted in and out of focus before she realized she was on the ground and the red-headed woman was standing above her holding an empty syringe before everything went fuzzy and faded to black.

She heard _Dutch_ ’s voice at the very end in the middle of all the darkness … she remembered that day that they had listed all of the powers that the _Master_ wielded ….

> _Dutch_ was reading the list … “or as Abe likes to call it … ‘ ** _The Scream_** ’.”


	94. Interlude 10 - The Freedom to Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  _Some of this is[canon](http://the-strain.wikia.com/wiki/Metaphysics_of_The_Strain). Some of this is lore. Some of this is from religious sources. And some of this is my own **wild** and **unleashed** imagination interpreting it all. Enjoy!_   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> # ಠ◡ಠ

## The Freedom to Fall

Of the first brood of Angels, there were _five_ , endowed with _divinity_ like none other.

Due to this difference, they were given the grand title of _Arch_ , as their power and leadership would encompass all those beneath them.  They would be the chieftains of their kind and thus all would respect, fear, and bow to their will.

[Ozyrel](https://www.instagram.com/p/BGeQXbtRnNL/?taken-by=carloseqo) was the first to **_spark_** as he opened his eyes fully as the _Great Spirit_ picked him up in its right hand and brought him to its lap.  It pulled him snugly to its bosom, pleased and amazed with its wondrous creation.  Thus, he became **_The Right Hand_**.  His eyes burned a deep red, his feathers clear, nearly translucent, and his skin a pure white, marbelesque and almost striped as it showed the veins that lurked just under his skin.

[Michael](https://www.instagram.com/p/BF3wI0YxnKr/?taken-by=carloseqo) was next.  The _Great Spirit_ picked him up in its left hand, bringing him next to his older brother.  Thus, he became **_The Left Hand_**.  His eyes burned with a deep green, his feathers a metallic gold, and his skin beautifully spotted.

After they had grown too big to sit, they stood on either side of the _Great Spirit_ , always together, working in unison and clarity, maintaining each other’s strengths and defeating their weaknesses.  If one would falter, the other would bolster.  If one would stumble, the other would reinforce.  If one would doubt, the other would ensure.

There were _never_ two Angels as close as these.  Standing as one, they ruled over the Kingdom together.  None would speak to the _Great Spirit_ directly, they were its _conduit_ to _all_ and no decision would ever be made by just one, maintaining a balance to prevent corruption.

The next to spark was [Gabriel](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCkrhSsxnKO/), _The Messenger_ ; he was given dominion over the _Nexus_ , the _Place of Connection_ , the _Veil of Thoughts_.  He held a mindful ear over all the thoughts of his brethren and kept The Hands informed of any whispers of concern.  His eyes burned a deep amber, his feathers a metallic silver, and his skin flawless and tanned.

[Raphael](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCftSGUxnH3/) was the fourth, _The Traveller;_ he was able to walk through all the planes at will; he kept a watchful eye over those who passed through the ethers - angel, human, demon, or _other_.  His eyes burned a deep violet, his feathers a deeper bronze, and his skin as flawless as his brothers’s, yet darker still.  He was born alongside Gabriel, just as Michael was to Ozyrel.  And though they bickered quite often, they were also inseparable.

After the four were born, _two pairs of two_ , the _Great Spirit_ nearly turned its attention from the nest, before it noticed yet another, who had been hidden under the others.  His frail little body, smaller than any of his brothers, lay there, unmoving.  They all sat, watchful over the smaller of the creations and when all hope was beginning to extinguish, the _Great Spirit_ created the _light_ to gaze upon him closer and the being _sparked_ to life suddenly … fantastically.  There was no other brother with him, and though he was alone, **_he was loved like none other_**.

This last was [Lucifer](https://www.instagram.com/p/BFWMB1fxnIV/), _The Light Bringer_ ; he was given dominion over the _Earth_ and they all doted on him, being the miracle that he was.  His eyes swam with all of the colors of his brothers’, his feathers were black, and his skin seemed to change tone at will.

The _Great Spirit_ gave its sons gifts.  Ozryel wielded the _Sword_ , which gave him the ability to rend souls from existence, while Michael wielded the _Ring_ , that which is used to bind and maintain order over all the brethren.  Gabriel wielded the _Horn_ , which gave him command over the Armies of The Kingdom of Heaven, while Raphael wielded the _Staff_ , that which can pierce beyond _all_ the realms.

As the _Great Spirit_ only expected four, it had nothing to offer its littlest, most precious child and instead shared its latest feat with him, _Earth_.

Though many angels were born after, their powers and freedom were subdued from _this first brood_.  At first, though it perceived their freedom of thought as a _flaw_ , questioning every instruction and faltering on issues of simple morality, it would realize the beauty in them that could _not_ be denied.

> _Freedom … encompassing all things._
> 
> _… to perceive differently,_
> 
> _… to think brazenly,_
> 
> _… to love unconditionally._
> 
> _Such things they would say,_
> 
> _Such things they would present._
> 
> _Such incredible pride they instilled in it._

So, when the _Great Spirit_ created _Man_ , it decided to borrow _this_ trait from its first, not truly understanding yet _what_ this freedom would cost.  To this day, none above will voice the events that lead to the _Corruption_ , but the whispers spoke of many possibilities.

Most blame the fact that the _Light Bringer_ was born _alone_.  He had none other to remind him of his strengths, to aid him in defeating his weaknesses.  If he faltered, then he succumbed.  If he stumbled, then he _fell_.  If he doubted, then he questioned.

Others blame the temptations of the flesh itself.  There were whispers of a woman, other whispers of a man, but it mattered not.  His brothers had been unable to refuse him, they had allowed him to spend more and more time on _Earth_.  They say he denied the rules and began to visit in the flesh instead of just the _spirit_ , detaching himself from the _Nexus_ each time.  Each visit longer and longer; being removed from _the strength of the others_ this long was a dangerous thing to a being of such _divinity_.

And still others say it was the _jealousy_ that he felt towards all.  Towards his brothers for their camaraderie, towards Man for their companionship and even towards the _Great Spirit_ for the _mistake_ of his birth.

No matter what the reasons, the shared _Corruption_ of _Angel_ and _Man_ begat the creation of the third realm.  Lucifer, being of the first brood, could not be destroyed, but his punishment was strict and his most beloved thing, _Dominion over Earth_ , was taken from him.  In its stead, he was given rule over the _Third Realm_ , never again allowed to leave.

_And then, there was the Fall of Ozryel …_

_… That which Michael blamed only himself for.  
_

 

* * *

 

“Stop fidgeting!”  He harshly commanded her as she weaseled under his hands.

“It hurts.”  She stated plainly.

“I would imagine so.”  He dug deeply into the wound attempting to fish for the bullet and she whimpered, pulling out of his grip yet again.  “STOP FIDGETING!  This would have been done with already!”

“You are HURTING me!”  She snapped at him and pulled entirely away, curling herself into a ball onto the floor at his feet.

He huffed and reached for her again as she recoiled in fear.  This reaction caused him to pause.  “ _Please_ , I am not wishing to _hurt_ you, but it must be removed.   _Immediately_.”

“You _have_ been trying!”  She cried to him, unable to hold back her tears any longer.  He’d been digging around inside of her shoulder for over twenty minutes now and the pain was only getting worse as he poked and prodded.  His hands had started to shake as she jolted and it only increased his rate of failure with each try.

“If you would just HOLD STILL–”  He tried to command her as he reached for her again and she dodged his grasp, ducking behind the wooden table, putting it between them.  His frustration was only growing as she would not listen to him.  This was always a problem when dealing with a prophet, as his innate ability to influence, command, and intimidate simply had no effect.

He rounded the corner of the table and she threw a cup at him in retaliation for his advancement, “Do _not_ touch me!  You are a _cruel god_!”  Now she was just being childish, but the fire in her amber eyes was difficult to refute and he pulled a seat from the table and showed her that he was conceding the fight to her as he sat.  He remembered _Two Rivers_ being difficult, but never _this_ difficult … this _defiant._

“If I cannot get the metal out, then it _cannot_ be healed.  If it cannot be healed, then this _will_ kill you.”  He could render the girl unconscious to finish the task, but he didn’t wish to upset the balance of their relationship further.  Regardless of his promise of protection to _Two Rivers_ ’ bloodline, she was a _prophet_ and thereby he was _already_ charged with her well being, even in the Creator’s absence … _especially_ due to Creator’s absence.

“Please, _girl_.”  He pulled out the chair next to him and waved a hand towards it, meanwhile she had picked up a spoon to use in defense.

“And, my name is NOT **_girl_**.”

“ _Hathų_ , please.”  He waved a hand again and she begrudgingly sat before him, facing him, purposefully not giving him access to her shoulder again.  She was much older than the last time he’d seen her at the lake, but she was _obviously_ still a child, he scoffed to himself.

“How many years has it been?”  He needed to build a rapport with her now.

“How do you not know?”  His ignorance of the passing of time confused her.  To her, he was a god.  Should he not be aware of the passing of time?

“Time works differently for me … back home, sometimes I–”

“Do you turn your eyes to us at all _anymore_?”  She was still confused.  Was he not a _Thunder_?

Before the _Truce_ , he would have spent as much time here as he did there, but things were different now …

“When _you_ need me.”  He smiled and now she scoffed at him.

_“You were **late**.”_

His fluster was hard to conceal and his jaw dropped at her accusatory statement.  It was very accurate, he had been late, nearly _too_ late.  He would have failed his charge on several levels that day.  He had gotten lazy over the years after the truce was put into place and he was ashamed to admit it now.

“But I am here _now_.”

“And my mother?”  she prodded, causing him to turn his face from her, “And her mother?”

“They are with the _Good Spirit_ now.”  It was more of an apology than anything else.

“Then I wish to join them.”

Michael blinked at her _request_ , “No.”  He raised her face to meet his with a gentle lift of her chin with his hand, “ _No_.  Your time is not finished here.”  She was the very last of _Two Rivers_ ’ line, after the sickness and violence that the uncaring Europeans had brought to this special land.

She pulled from his grip, “It is not up to _you_ , is it?”

“If you wish to see _your family_ again, then you can never take your own life … This is the only rule that is certain.“  He pulled her chin to face him again, “Do you understand?”

She meekly nodded in her apparent sadness, “I am _alone_.”

“No, you have _me_.”  He smiled at the girl and this seemed to reaffirm her.  Understanding what it was like to be alone, his smile was genuine and she accepted it.  He twirled his hands around, asking her to give him her back again and she delayed.

“Your hands are unsteady.  It makes you uncoordinated.  So you fail and hurt me.”  She offered, looking up to him in a condescending way, but he was oddly not insulted by it.  She was _right_.  He suddenly enjoyed the fact that she was not _afraid_ of him, not _influenced_ by him.  Only _prophets_ and those of his own brood did not inherently _fear_ him.  It was one of the many reasons that he had come to appreciate _Two Rivers’_ company so very much.

“What do you suggest then?”  He inquired simply of her as he stared down at his bloody hands.  They were only nervous when he caused her pain, and as soon as the instrument entered her, the pain was immediate.

“First … you must _**calm your fire**._ ”  She said as she laid her dark hand on his, closing her amber eyes and breathing deeply in before exhaling deeper out.  He simply watched for a moment in awe until she peeked through one of her eyes and saw that he was not mimicking her.

She opened both her eyes and gave him a look of total exasperation before he understood, “Oh, sorry.  Alright.”  He closed his eyes as he mused to himself … The greatest warrior of the three planes … twelve thousand years old … being given instruction to calm himself from a simple girl.  No, there was absolutely nothing simple about this girl.  She, like her ancestor, was touched by the _Great Spirit_ itself.  She, unlike him or his kind and even the _Great Spirit_ itself, could see the future.  This was their _curse_ … their _burden_.

_**What would his soldiers think of him?** _

Once he was calmed and she had turned back around, she answered his question before he would finally pull the bullet free of her, “Fourteen years.”

“What is?”  He was confused.

“Since we last met.”  He remembered it clearly now; she had been five.

 

* * *

 

Michael would visit her many times over the following years.  He borrowed the staff from his younger brother more and more often until he finally did not return it all.  There was simply no arguing with the Governor on this and Raphael surrendered it to him willingly in the end.

The justification given was simple.  The _Truce_ dictated that none other than _Michael himself_ was to visit Earth and for the safety of the prophet’s bloodline, a bargain struck hundreds of years ago with the prophet, it was best if he kept the staff close.

The powers had been spread across all the brothers as there had always been checks and balances in place to ensure _Corruption_ would never happen again and when he took the Horn from Gabriel, this had not been as willingly given.  When the two brothers watched in silent horror as he combined the items into one, Michael would look back and realize this was the point at which he _should_ have questioned his own motivations.

He should have questioned the beginning of his own _fall_ … 

  
  



	95. 14.1 - Torment

He remembered _this instant_ very clearly.  He thought of it often, in fact … 

This was the first time he pushed her away.  Everything was the same.

Her hand flying up quickly to silence him as she knew the strigoi were coming _before_ he did.  That made more sense _now_.

He heard the _army_ down the way … ambling quickly up the corridor towards their location.

He dropped the bag of equipment he was carrying to the side, exactly as he had done before.  Grabbing the woman without warning, he bent down and wrapped his arm snugly around her waist and pulled her to his chest quickly and firmly before he jumped down into the empty moat area below.

The herd had rounded the corner and he moved quickly, dropping her against the far wall and onto a small ledge roughly eight inches in height and four inches in width.

He grabbed his hood, pulling it as far forward as possible and held its edges against the wall, trapping her head and face within it.  The added height that the conduit afforded her short stature helped align her body to the shape of the coat and brought them nearly face to face.

She gripped the sides of the coat, repeating the same strategy and holding it against the wall to her sides.  The fabric had enough give so that their skin would not need to touch, but their faces were now mere inches apart.  Quinlan became a statue at once as he attempted to shield **_her smell_** from escaping the airlock that he had just made with his wool clothing.

Everything up to this point was as it had exactly been the first time, as it should have been and now he waited for her to get that mischievous twinkle in her eye, before she would lean in to hesitantly kiss him.  And as he eagerly waited, nothing occurred.

_Odd._

The beasts above still ambled about and he looked down to the spotted yet troubled face, her brow furrowed madly.  Quinlan became frustrated with the situation and attempted to lean in to her and she turned her face from his.

_!?!?_

“ _What is wrong?_ ”  He questioned immediately, returning to her an equally troubled face.  She brought her finger up to her lips to shush him angrily.   _This was just a dream_ , he cared not for the monsters above.  “ _What is it?_ ”

She pointed above to the army and he scoffed, pulling back from her slightly, as he pushed his hood back, revealing them to the outside air.  The creatures went about their amble above and ignored the commotion below.  It was merely a dream and there just on autoplay.

“You are _angry_ with _me_ now?”  Could he not even have a nice dream at this point?  There was no way this day could get any _worse_ , was there?  Now his subconscious needed to continue to punish him for his actions?

Why could he not have just had _another_ one of the training dreams?  Those had become his favorite of them all … however the new _Latin_ dream was actually quite nice.  He had finally gotten to kiss her.   _Finally_.  He snapped back to the situation at hand as she spoke up.

“I guess I don’t _smell_ bad anymore?”  She spat a question at him, attempting to step down from the ledge away but he prevented her exit with his arm.

“In fact, _you do not_.”  He stated plainly and she scrunched her nose at him in severe disgust as she attempted a retreat again from the other side and he denied her exit firmly.

“ _No_.”  She said, “ _No_.  You don’t just get to … _use me_ … when you see **_fit_**.”  She pushed against his chest now, but he remained stoic, staring down into her face in disbelief.

“I have never _used_ you.”  He wasn’t sure how true that statement was, but it felt true … until he considered the factory and the subsequent stairwell.  Was he not _using_ her in his dreams, even if it was not real?  His stance relaxed and he sighed heavily with an unintentional rattle.

“It has not been my _intention_ to use you.”  He wasn’t sure if that was an apology or not, and regardless of whether this was real or not, he actually felt it was **_cathartic_** to tell her.  Yet even as he spoke the words, he felt uneasy about them.  It was always his intention to use _everything_ and _everyone_ around him, was it not?   _Ancharia_ even instructed him to use _her_ …

“You …” she paused before looking down to her hands with which she had started to fumbled.  He cringed as he could tell she was considering that nervous act of rubbing her wrist, which drove him crazy.  However she did not, instead looking up into his blue eyes as she restarted her statement, “You _beat_ that man.”

“He was _hurting_ you.”

She rejected at his overly feeble reason, “You _know_ he wasn’t.”  He found her pouting face … _enticing_.

He tried again, rattling as he did, “He …”  He rolled his head in annoyance.  What difference does it make here?  Just tell her.  “He was **_touching_** you.”

“You don’t get to–”

“I **_know_** I have **_no right_**.”  He interrupted her sharply, pressing his forehead to hers.  Though she tried to pull back, there was nowhere to go as she conceded to this _touch_.  He pressed it firmly, using it to conceal his impending twitch.

The rush of being free to speak his mind spread over him like wild fire as his words flowed unbounded now. “I do not care any longer … **_I do not care what right I have!_** ”  He pulled back momentarily, ferociously hitting the wall to the right of her with his fist as the action caused her to recoil slightly.  She stared back at him in minor disbelief.

Was he _really_ acting this way?  Not even with Tasa had he ever been _this_ straightforward.  But it did not matter at all.  What was the point of this?  What was he really hoping he would tell _himself_.  This was not real … all in his head.

“You _told_ me to find someone–”  Her voice stuttered, endowed with bitter sadness.

He interrupted her with another strike to the wall, dislodging entire bricks under his fist and causing a plume of dust to billow out from it.  The mumbling, mindless beasts above ignored the shaking that he caused to the ground, “ _You … You **torment** me with my own words.  Do you enjoy **tormenting** me?  Do you get pleasure from it?_ ”  He hissed lowly and accusingly, closing his eyes briefly while he pushed his head against hers again, firmly.

She attempted again, “You _told_ me I deserved to find–”

“I know _my words_ … and you chose … you chose **_that boy_**?!”  His repulsion was unjust, he knew _anyone_ would have invoked the same ridiculous jealous rage within him.  Was he a child again?   _Why_ should he care about this?  She was _not_ his property and the boy was easily more _attractive_ than he.  He was a _monster_ , afterall.

“He … _He wanted_ me.”  He interrupted her again with a scoff, pulling his head away to look into her anguished eyes.

 ** _“I want you!”_**  His nostrils flared as he sneered in a rattled scream to her through closed teeth, hitting the wall again in his fit of prolonged anger.  She closed her eyes at the impact, but opening them quickly and stared back to him, unafraid.

This was no longer **_cathartic_** , this was _torture_.  This emotion that he had caged so long ago was entirely freed now and he could no longer deny it had been free since …

“And you always get what you _want_?”

“ _More often than not_.”  She pushed against his chest as he leaned in and smelled her deeply at her neck, at the scar that he had inflicted upon her.

“It’s because people fear you …”  She turned her face from him.

“ ** _YES_**.”  He hissed, “And _you_?  Do you **_fear_** me?”  He growled at her lowly as he leaned in again.  He felt like he had given her equal reasons to both fear _and_ trust him.  If he could start over … if he could go back to the factory that night … would he change anything?

“No one ever tells you **_no_** , do they, _Mr. Quinlan_?”

That name.  That _bloody_ name.  Even in his own head, why does she insist on _using that damned name._

“Many have _tried_ … but **_very few_** have ever been allowed such a _thing_.”  His frustration was far from abated and yet he brushed his nose against hers gingerly as her hands pressed their palms against his chest strongly.  This intimacy was undeniable.

“And when they have _tried_?”  She questioned.

He slapped the bricks on either side of her head with his palms now.  “ ** _None_** can stop me from _taking_ what I want … when I **_want_** it.”  He whispered to her.  It wasn’t a threat, but simply a statement of fact.  He pressed his mouth towards hers yet again.

“ **NO**.”  She stated firmly, causing him to pause.  He stared down to her lips and considered _taking them_ anyways, but huffed and pulled sharply away from her, releasing her from his captivity.  

But as he attempted to spin his back to her, he realized that she now gripped his inner jacket tightly in both of her small fists, preventing him from fully retreating and he read the invitation clearly.  _Has she been testing him?!_

He grunted loudly as he stepped back to her, meeting her lips with an already open mouth and a force that pushed her head abruptly back, hitting it against the brick with a light thud.  She whimpered at it very lowly but the noise gave way to a mild moan as she welcomed his lips eagerly, holding his coat tightly to her.  Now it was her turn to prevent him from leaving.

Had his mouth _not been busy_ , he would have apologized for slamming her against the wall, but it was busy, very busy, increasingly busy, as was his tongue.  Flustered by the softness of her mouth, he was at a sudden and immediate loss of where to place his hands as his body tightened intensely, and he simply pressed their palms against the brick on either side of her as they explored each others mouths.

How had he refused this before?  How … His mind wandered if this _would be_ how she might taste in reality and the thought of it drove him to rattle into her through his deep breaths and even as she smiled, he did not hesitate.  How had he refused …

Pinning her firmly against the wall with his frame, he pushed his chest against hers and purred as the curves crushed against him.  He wanted to feel them again and he finally remembered his idle hands, as they found their way around her lower back as he embraced her, crushing her even harder.  In his excitement, his strength caused her gasp suddenly, but he refused to bring his lips away even through her sudden pant.

 _Careful, Quintus._  He reminded himself as calmly as possible.

His hands slid down her back, over and past her hips as they grabbed mid thigh, raising her up effortlessly into his complete control.  As he brought her legs around his torso, he grinned when she clenched around him.

Pulling away from her mouth long enough to speak, he attempted to apologize for her head, “Forgive me, I did not mean to–”

_“Shut up.”_

_Indeed_.  He complied as she touched his mouth, smiling through her marvelous giggle, “ ** _Labiis_**.”

“Yes …”   _Good.  So very good._  It was just a dream, afterall, right?  The thought of it _just_ being that caused him to smile madly as he considered what he wished to do next.  He began with biting her lower lip and she squeaked.

 _Mmmmm … What a noise to hear from his Poet_.  He quickly pondered what other noises she might make.  What other noises _he_ might be able to _make her make_.  She was always so _very, very quiet._

He allowed her to slide down from his grip, back into place on the ledge and she looked up at him with pensive and curious eyes as he pulled away from her face.  He wished to demonstrate to her just how clumsy _the boy_ had been.

“ ** _Lasciva_ …** ”  He said and she understood at once.   _It was time for a lesson._

“Lash-eeva.”  He broke her fisted grips on his coat’s edges and turned her around to face the wall.  Attempting to refuse at first, he heard her respiration increase and he repeated the word again, delicately and softly into her ear after, “ ** _Lasciva_ …** ”

“Lash-eeva.”  She said to the wall as he placed both of his hands on her shoulders from behind.  He smoothed his right hand slowly down the side of her back until it rested on her hip and he leaned in to finally _define_ it, kissing her neck on the area just under her ear before he whispered.

“ **Naughty**.”

He felt her body tense under his hands at the uncovering of the word but she gave no protest causing him to grin as his left hand moved up from her shoulder and pulled the tie from her hair, letting it fall down across her shoulders.  He revelled in the smell of it for a moment before he bit the tip end of the glove on his middle finger, pulling his hand free of the leather confine and letting it drop to the floor.

Starting at the base of her skull, he ran his fingers up and into the mess of hair, caressing momentarily before he gripped a handful as he pulled it back firmly but carefully.  He kissed the other side of her neck in the same place as before, just under her ear as her hands came up to the wall, bracing herself with palms against the brick.  His right hand moved away from her hip and forcefully slapped her cheek.

She squeaked differently this time and he throatily chuckled at it, considerately rubbing the spot of his strike, gripping the curvy flesh in his palm tightly before releasing her hair at once.  He pushed his forehead against the back of her head, nuzzling and purring into her hair gently as he took a deep breath of it in, entirely unable to hold back the violent twitch that escaped next.

_Oh gods._

He was actually not the _punishing_ type.  He did not enjoy causing pain and he desired to inflict no further _punishment_ , however much he had enjoyed the noise.  He only wished to show her that _the boy_ will … _ill equipped_ for pleasure.

“Do you not understand?”  His voice reeked of desperation, “How can you not _see_ it?  _Feel it._ ”  His eyes were closed as he breathed her in again, **_“[Tibi sunt mea.](https://translate.google.com/?oe=utf-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&hl=en&client=tw-ob#la/en/Tibi%20sunt%20mea.)”_**

“Tee-bee soont mea.”  She repeated.  He actually hadn’t meant for her to repeat it.  It was not a lesson but a _statement to her_.  However once she said the words back to him, he knew they were _true_ as well and he smiled.

“ ** _YES_**.”  He accepted it.  He succumbed.  _He was hers._ He knew he had been for some time now.

Something scratched at him … deep inside.  No, not inside at all … it was _outside_ … he could feel a distant pain.  It ravaged his body.  It begged him to awaken _now_.  The dream was trying to end, as it always did.

 _No.  Fuck this dream.  Fuck this torment_.  Quinlan had had enough and he ignored the itch that had begun to fester in his mind.

He turned her face back to him, gently nudging her jaw with his ungloved hand until their eyes met, and he watched her eyes grew massive as she attempted to turn and look down when she heard him unclasp his buckle.  It was quite a distinctive noise, but he averted her attention with his lips against hers as he turned her head back around to face him, keeping her chest against the wall, pushing his frame against her from behind.

“Quinlan … _wait_ … _not like this_.”  She pulled back from his kiss long enough to plea, but he denied it.

“ _No … I will wait **no longer.**_ ”  The tightness in his body was agonizing.  He wondered if this pain from the hardness was worse for him than mortal men.  He imagined so, given the shock that others had conveyed to him over the steel of it.

His pant button was silent, but the zipper was not, and it invoked a curious noise from her, but he would not withdraw his mouth from hers.

She managed to pull back to utter another plea into his lips, this time it was weaker and less sure, “Quinlan … _not like this, not here_ …”  But she was not fighting him, her back actually rubbed against his chest and he could _smell her_ clearly now.  Her body prepared for him.

Up against the brick wall of the New Yorker city sewer, he thought, while an army of strigoi marched above them.   _It was just a dream_ … he coaxed himself. 

“I _cannot_ wait any long–”  He began to pull his clothing down to free himself completely as his other hand found her waist and began to fiddle with her own button.

“ **STOP THIS AT ONCE!** ”  The sudden volume of the voice startled the Born from his task, and as they stared at each other in slow shock, turning in unison to the figure standing just five feet from them.  She was dark skinned and quite lovely, her lips were full and her amber eyes were wide with worry and annoyance, “Both of you need to WAKE UP _RIGHT NOW_.   **THEY ARE GOING TO KILL YOU.** ”

These dreams … these damn dreams … never came to any kind of _fruition_ … he always woke before …

_Wait … **Both of US?**_

Quinlan immediately blushed.

   


 

* * *

 

 

> **Note from Author:** _If this sounds familiar, then it should … hehehe_

When he woke, the first thought to cross his mind wasn’t that he was incapable of moving, but rather the burning pain had completely subsided and _he was **still** alive_.  As his eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light that flooded in caused him to wince and his body gave a slight jolt.  It was with this sudden movement that he realized he was restrained and his head _throbbed_.

With several blinks, his eyes adjusted slowly to the brightness.  He hated the light; it overwhelmed his heightened senses, even now after so many years.  He immediately moved to reach for his glasses …

_No, I cannot move …_

The thoughts rolled across his mind as he came to terms with the severity of his current weakness as well as the pain that swelled in his extremities.  He was disgusted with himself for being in this state; he knew better, but again … he was alive … _she_ was alive.  

The memories of last night were only flashes … _last night_?  It was daylight now, but he knew he really wasn’t sure how long now it had been, but … thank the gods most of the pain was gone.  This meant the electricity had subsided.

Quinlan’s eyes flashed open all at once.   _The electricity._

“Hey there!”  Said a jolly but old voice from the other side of the bright light.  It was UV and it pointed directly at him, causing his vision to blur.  He disliked the feeling on his skin.  “We didn’t think you were actually gonna wake up.  We were almost just gonna skip straight to the _next part._ ”  That chuckle again.

He recognized the voice immediately.  It was the same voice that had told the men to “fry ‘em up”.  Quinlan sneered and attempted to rattle his restraints as the pain began again _instantly_ , coursing through his entire body as all the muscles seized up suddenly and agonizingly.  As his body convulsed, the pain in his wrists and ankles intensified dramatically.

 ** _DAMNATION_**.

The voice laughed again, almost maniacally, “I wouldn’t wiggle around _too much_ there.  That’s a pressure sensor trigger under your chair.  Too much movement and … **_ZAP_**!”  He chuckled again at the end of it.

 _Patience, Quintus._  He commanded himself and once the pain and twitching subsided again, he breathed deeply, closing his eyes until he could focus on his other senses fully.  Then, he timidly looked around as his vision blurred slowly into focus and his eyes adjusted to the intensity of the light.

It was a larger room than he expected.  He preferred to torture men in small rooms, personally.  It was brick and underground, he could tell from the lack of sound behind two of the walls that shared a corner.

He was attached to a chair that strangely reminded him of the one that Fet had constructed to interrogate the minion in, however this one was far more advanced.  The pain that emanated from his extremities were caused by the rods that had been inserted through him, two between both his ulna and radius, and two between both his tibia and fibular.  He could tell by the stinging that they were at least coated with silver.

His head was restrained by a metal band that held him back against the chair and his mouth was covered in a mask that would prevent him from using his stinger, but not prevent him from speaking.  He felt just like the creature they had tied up in the basement that day.

He got a clear look at the man who sat across the table from him now, as the old man leaned in, his laughter ceased and his smile gone.  He was a General, Quinlan could tell by his clothing and badges.

“Good good.  Can we start now?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
> [quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/156067060690/chapter-14-torment-do-you-not-understand-his):
>
>>  
>> 
>> **[Chapter 14 - Torment](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/155774522183/chapter-14-torment) **
>>
>>>  
>>> 
>>> _“Do you not understand?” His voice reeked of desperation, “How can you not see it? Feel it.” His eyes were closed as he breathed her in again, **“[Tibi sunt mea.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%3Foe%3Dutf-8%26um%3D1%26ie%3DUTF-8%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dtw-ob%23la%2Fen%2FTibi%2520sunt%2520mea.&t=YTc3NzY5MjkwZjMyN2UwZmNjYmNiYjUwNTUxZTRhNWIxMGRiY2E3Yywybmc2eTNERQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155774522183%2Fchapter-14-torment&m=1)”**_
>>> 
>>>  
>>> 
>>> _“Tee-bee soont mea.” She repeated. He actually hadn’t meant for her to repeat it. It was not a lesson but a statement to her. However once she said the words back to him, he knew they were true as well and he smiled._
>>> 
>>>  
>>> 
>>> _“ **YES**.” He accepted it. He succumbed. He was hers. He knew he had been for some time now._
>>> 
>>>  
>>> 
>>> _**[A Savage Inconvenience](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/) by @5thinvictus ** _  
> 
>> 
>> For your satisfaction, the dream that killed us all! I regret nothing! [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA) Would be too much to ask if you could put this fanfic as cause of death on my gravestone?
> 
>  **ヽ( ⌒o⌒)人(⌒-⌒ )ﾉ**  
> 


	96. 14.2 - Torment

Quinlan had been many, _many_ things over many, _many_ years, however a prisoner was one that was a rare occasion indeed.

Once, he had nearly been captured by the Berber army.  Another time, he had been saved and then embarrassingly subdued by a very imaginative mathematician, and now he could add _this_ to that roster: _The US Army._

This man … this _General_ … was quite pleased with himself, it seemed.  Quinlan felt that this was actually understandable, as a General, one usually was.  He knew he had been guilty of the same hubris.

He watched as the man eyed him carefully, trying to decide what exactly to say next.  He fiddled with a folder before setting it down on the metal table that divided them, opening it up carefully as he flipped through the pages, ignoring Quinlan entirely for now.

He mused to himself that this _human_ thought he could intimidate _him_.  Looking down at the restraints around and _through_ his wrists, Quinlan gulped slightly.  The chair itself did not seem overly stable to him, he was sure he could break it easily, however the electricity was a problem.  It was fast, immediate and incapacitating.

 _Coward_.  He thought, but then calmed himself fully.  If this man wanted him dead, he simply would not have awoken.  Perhaps a parlay would be … _beneficial_ while Quinlan assessed the situation.  They were both Generals, after all.

“How you feelin?”  He asked smugly, picking up an object from the table.  It was a large dart of some kind.  “You know … it took fifteen of these … **_FIFTEEN of these damn things_** to bring you down.”

The man chuckled at his own words, “Wow-wee … I mean, **_one of these_** is rated to bring down a Rhino.  Man oh man … “

Quinlan only smiled at him in response.  In all honesty, he wondered how many it would have taken had they not shocked the holy hell out of him _first_.

He flipped to another page and squinted with his old man eyes as he read something from it, “Then we had to crank the current up to 700 milliAmps?!  And that was only temporarily.  Sheesh!  That is more than three times … **_THREE TIMES_** as much as it takes to kill a man, and then you were just gonna get right back up. _God Damn_.”

Quinlan’s smile faded as he intensely disliked the fact that they had haplessly put her life in danger to simply **_catch_** him.   _Snakes_.  However, he understood that when one is _at war_ , one does whatever is necessary …

He wished to stretch his neck desperately now, but he dared not shift any part of his body.  His muscles still ached from the current; the intensity at which they contracted and seized was close to the most painful thing he had ever experienced.

“So … here’s the thing …” The man started, “we’ve been watchin’ you for a while now.”

Quinlan furrowed his brow slightly, “Is _that_ so?”  Disbelief riddled his voice.  He subdued all rattle from it.  He needed to humanize himself as much as possible right now.

The General pulled out a few pictures and slapped them down on the table in front of the dhampir.  “See that … that’s _infrared_.  We littered the base with them a few weeks ago when odd things started happenin’.”

Quinlan focused on the pictures and indeed saw his familiar shape in a number of them as the man continued his proud explanation.

“Ya see … _your kind_ runs **hot** … usually _hotter_ than you, but we picked up the difference.”

Quinlan looked up from the pictures and met his gaze.  What was his game?  What did he wish to know?

“What _odd_ things?”  He queried.  Where had he messed up to let them know he was afoot?  He might as well learn from this experience.

“Weapons missing, men passin’ out on shift … lack of sightings.”  The General summed up everything.

Quinlan sighed briefly realizing he had underestimated these humans a bit and the pain coupled with the sliver plus the last shock had put him into a state of exhaustion and he was unable to stop himself from the twitch that erupted next, which in turn set off the chair again.

**_DAMNATION!!!_ **

The old man laughed at his agony, “That’s gotta smart.  I’d recommend you really shouldn’t move.”

“ _Indeed_.”  He huffed after his body relaxed but he could not stop his third eyelid from blinking now.  This was something that he tried to maintain complete control over and the old man shivered from it.  The last thing he wished to do at this moment was seem _less human_ to them.

“You are _pretty damn fast_ too.  I think at one point, we clocked you goin’ 200 miles per hour.  Just zippin’ around my base.”

 _Must have been a slow day_ , he mused silently to himself.

“And that’s fast … yeah.  But not faster than … “  He fished another paper out of his folder and read a number from it, “ ** _280 million meters per second_**.  Do you know what is though?”

“I do not.  Perhaps _Light_?”  Odd number, he thought to himself.

“You know … _maybe_ … but I mean the speed of electricity.”  So much amusement in his condescending tone.  Quinlan was not sure he had ever gotten so much enjoyment out of interrogations.  “But … what we can’t figure out … is why?  Why are you here?”  The General clasped his fingers together and stared directly into the dhampir’s eyes.

“We thought maybe you were here for _Goodweather_ or _the hacker_.  You showed up around the same time, but the cameras kept catching you goin’ back to that hospital room.”  He flicked another couple of photos down in front of Quinlan as he glared at the old man, not even bothering to look at the evidence.

“We had a fun trap set up for you at _Velders_ ’ cell, but you never showed … “  He shrugged, “And then we thought for sure you were here to kill the Doc, but nah … “  He poked his finger back down at the picture, “You were here for her, weren’t ya?  Still doesn’t make sense though.”

“I am **_not_** your enemy.”  Quinlan finally stated.  He was not his enemy at this point in time, but the General was slowly changing that fact.  He’d had enough.  Where was she?  He could not hear or smell her.  What had they done with her?  The dark skinned woman had said they were both in danger.

“Really?  You sure about that?  Cause, you sure _look_ like my enemy.”  He stated.

“I am **_not_** your enemy, but I assure you, we share a common one.”

“Oh yeah?  You guys hate _China_ too?”  The General chuckled.

“My name is–”

“Mr. Quinlan.  Yeah, we got _that_ much.”  The General was pleased with himself again.  He fumbled a tape recorder on the table and pushed a button on it.  Quinlan heard a crackling of various noises, and then her distinctive voice from their conversation in the trees:

>     “We can’t go, _Mr. Quinlan_.  Not without the others.”

The General flipped off the recorder and set it back on the table, “You two bicker like an old–”

“ _General_ ,”  He would reattempt to control the conversation, “I feel as though we have gotten off to a bad start.”

“Bad start?   _Bad start?_ ”   _Oh gods_ , he did not like the sound of this.  “I’d say so.  And what about him?”  He flipped a couple of new photos down and Quinlan gazed upon his own handiwork.  They were photos of that _boy_ in a hospital bed.  He knew he should not have grinned and as he attempted to wipe it from his face quickly, it was too late as the General had already seen it.

“Pleased with yourself, are you?”   _Indeed_.

“I apologize.  I did not come here with the intention to _harm_ that man or anyone in your camp.”

“What’s strange is … the other two people weren’t hurt _at all_ … in fact, they didn’t even see you coming.”

 _Indeed_.  He had wished _them_ no ill will.

“But, Webb … “  He picked up another paper, this one covered with words, “A severe concussion, 6 broken ribs, 4 on the right, 2 on the left.  Ouch.   Lacerations on the face and the back of the head.  He needed 48 stitches.”

Quinlan was _almost_ displeased that was all, until the General finished reading the paper, “A _cracked jaw_ with the loss of his lower right first molar and second bicuspid … that’s teeth, I’m guessing.”

 _Indeed_.  That was a good punch, Quinlan mused to himself as he held in his grin successfully this time.  He didn’t need the explanation at the end, but he was sure this man _did_.

“You didn’t just knock him out to take the girl … you hurt him.”

“I did not like him.”  This was undoubtedly a bad thing to express, but there was little that he could say to appease the old man at this time.

“I imagine not … I mean, overall … I don’t like the kid that much either.  He’s always been a bit of a pain in my ass.  But you know, he’s my little sister’s kid, so I kinda gotta take _personal offense_ to the way he was treated.”

 _Uh oh.  Hell._  This would be a kink to winning any kind of trust.  The boy was of his relation.  “Perhaps you should inquire as to why he was in _her bedroom_ at the time.”  Quinlan sneered as calmly as possible, “Perhaps your soldiers  lack proper discipline.”

_Calm yourself, Quintus._

The General shrugged, “Like I said … he’s not my favorite nephew.  Nope.  Not even close.  Nope, my favorite nephew was a called out in the final defense of Boston three weeks ago … along with my son.”

Quinlan shifted a bit in the seat and thought it better to remain still.  He did not like the path that this conversation was taking and his likelihood of working out of this situation was getting more bleak as the General progressed with his tale.

“Were you there?”  The General questioned, “At the Battle of Boston?”

“ _I am **not** your enemy_ , General.  I am your only _hope_ –”

“It’s _Shaw_.  We can dispense with formalities here.  Answer the question.  Were you there?”  He repeated his question, “The Battle of Boston was brutal … _no survivors_.   ** _None_**.”  Shaw flicked through some more papers before looking up to him, cold and collected, “Why are you here?”

Quinlan blinked at the question.  He _already_ knew why he was here, did he not?  He already knew he was here for her.  “Pardon?”

“Why did you come here?  What do you want from us?  Is it just humans that you want?  To harvest us?  We’ve seen the factories going up everywhere.”

“I am _not_ one of them.”

“Or did you come here for our natural resources?”

Quinlan blinked quickly at this question … _wait … was he implying …_

“Did you come here for it all … the _entire planet_?”

Quinlan hissed in disgust, “ _I am **not** an **alien**_.  What kind of _buffoonery_ is this?!?”

His annoyance was nearly overflowing.  Did they really think they… **_that he_** … _was a fucking alien?!_   Some kind of world invading organism _that_ … Quinlan’s exasperation slowly faded as he considered what it must look like to the outside world, those who had never seen this before…

_Oh gods._

A parasitic, hive organism that suddenly appeared on a plane … which proceeded to take over the human race.  He calmed himself.  It was not that far of a stretch, actually.

“They are _not_ aliens, I assure you.  They have been around for thousands of years.  This is bordering on _ridiculous_ now.  Where is _Goodweather_?!”  He finally demanded.  If they would not listen to him, then they might listen to Ephraim.

“ _They_?”  Shaw seemed confused that Quinlan who differentiate himself from them.  There was a noise from behind him as a metal door opened and he heard footsteps and a familiar scent hit him.

The red-headed doctor kept a good distance from him as she circled around the chair, until he could see her fully from the corner of his eye.  Her hands were steady and her voice impressively calm, but Quinlan could hear the rapid beat of her nervous heart, as she fumbled with the folder in her hands, looking at the General for attention and he nodded as he stood and stepped behind the dhampir and out the metal door.

Quinlan listened to their hushed conversation intently through the wall.

> **Rubinstein** : It wasn’t a malfunction of the cameras.   _He_ ’s _different_.  The hosted run around 120 degrees, _he_ runs about 110.
> 
> **Shaw** : I’m not sure what that is supposed to mean to me, Doc.
> 
> **Rubinstein** : _He_ ’s _different_.  Sir, _he_ doesn’t have any of the parasites.
> 
> **Shaw** :  Have you seen it?  It ain’t–
> 
> **Rubinstein** :   _He_ ’s been through the transformation, yes, but _he_ ’s parasite free. Even _his_ brain is–
> 
> **Shaw** : Did you find out who it used to be?
> 
> **Rubinstein** : No Sir.  No matches have come back from facial recognition.  There’s more …
> 
> **Shaw** : Let’s have it.
> 
> **Rubinstein** : The X-Rays show _he_ has a stinger, but it’s smaller, and _he_ ’s still got a number of other human organs.  Whatever transformation _he_ ’s been through, it wasn’t _complete_.  I need to get _him_ into the MRI machine to have a better look.
> 
> **Shaw** : That’s a risk, Rebecca.  You can just cut it up after the interrogation, like we originally planned.
> 
> **Rubinstein** : Sir, I really think I need to get some imaging done while _he_ ’s still alive.  We aren’t even sure what _he_ is.  We … I need to examine _him_ while _he_ ’s still alive.  What if _he_ found a way to halt _his_ infection?
> 
> **Shaw** :  It, Rebecca … IT.  Don’t _humanize_ these things.
> 
> **Rubinstein** : We aren’t executioners, Tom.
> 
> **Shaw** : You ain’t gettin’ an MRI, you’ll get an autopsy.  That’s it.
> 
> **Rubinstein** :  Tom, we don’t even know if _he_ can die yet.
> 
> **Shaw** :  Well, Doc.  That’s up to you to find out.  I suggest we start by removing its head.
> 
> **Rubinstein** :  I need more living blood before you go down that route.
> 
> **Shaw** : Done.  Anything else?  What did _Goodweather_ have to say?
> 
> **Rubinstein** : We … We can’t find him.
> 
> **Shaw** : **_What_**?
> 
> There was a pause and Shaw ordered more guards to the door.
> 
> **Shaw** : And the woman?
> 
> **Rubinstein** :  She’s sedated.  The transport to take her to Canary is on its way.  ETA is 45 minutes.
> 
> **Shaw** :  Keep her that way.  We don’t want another incident.
> 
> **Rubinstein** :   _Tom_ … She’s hu–
> 
> **Shaw** :  You saw what she did out there … Don’t _humanize_ these things, Rebecca.  That’s why we are losing this war.
> 
> It sounded as if Shaw was turning to return to the room, before he spun back to the Doctor.
> 
> **Shaw** : What about the translation?  Was Moretti able to–
> 
> **Rubinstein** : It turns out it wasn’t _Italian_ , Sir.  That’s the weird part.
> 
> **Shaw** : What was it?
> 
> **Rubinstein** : **_[Tibi sunt mea](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Ftranslate.google.com%2F%3Foe%3Dutf-8%26um%3D1%26ie%3DUTF-8%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dtw-ob%23la%2Fen%2FTibi%2520sunt%2520mea.&t=MzdmZDllNjdiOGVjYzgyZDNhMmY2ZjFiOTU5NzBlY2M4N2I1YmVjYSxOZ3hEbE9aUA%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155862359578%2Fchapter-14&m=1) _** … _You are mine_.  Its _Latin_ , Tom.
> 
> **Shaw** : _Latin_?  Who speaks _Latin_??
> 
> **Rubinstein** : That’s the point … _No one_.  It’s been dead for over a thousand years.

Quinlan sighed.   _Damnation_.  Had he been speaking in his sleep?  What else could he have said?!  He sneered to himself lowly as he began to assess the chair again, looking for weaknesses.  He heard footsteps and the metal door opening again as the older man reentered.

He smiled as he came back into Quinlan’s view, “Sorry about that … Now, where were we again?”

 

* * *

 

She was blowing in the wind again.

> _Shape without form, shade without colour,_
> 
> _Paralysed force, gesture without motion;_

She could hear them.

     She could still hear them.

          Here … she was not alone.

> _Our dried voices, when_
> 
> _We whisper together_
> 
> _Are quiet and meaningless_

Just a piece of the white flurry, waltzing back and forth.

> _And voices are_
> 
> _In the wind’s singing_
> 
> _More distant and more solemn_
> 
> _Than a fading star._

She was not _afraid_ this time … as she saw the knife and the white hand cut her free.  The wind was so warm and she flew free.  For the first time, she wasn’t losing her place, she wasn’t being outcast, she was being …

     **_Freed._**

Why had she ever been afraid?  This was … _glorious_.  She flew up as she saw the fight below, as the warm breeze pushed her out and away from it, as it carried her towards something … someone.

This was when she woke … this was when she screamed and her mother would shake her awake.  She could see the _Black Serpent’s_ hand reaching out for her but she had nothing to reach back, but it mattered not.  It never did.  The wind guided her directly to it.  Into its hand … his hand.  And for the first time, she saw the _serpent_ ’s face.

_He was … Quintus._

     And everything faded …

          _into a blinding white_ … 

As the outside world slowly came into focus around her, someone standing above her.  The outline was bald and she found herself smiling.   _He found her._  But her smile quickly departed as she realized it wasn’t the dhampir, but _Ephraim_.  He was saying something … he was rushed.  She looked over and saw him pulling an IV out of her arm.

“Come on … _up up up up_!”  He was frantic now, “We gotta go… WE GOTTA GO.  NOW!”

_Oh shit._


	97. 14.3 - Torment

Ephraim quickly grabbed her hand, and though her head swam with fading fuzziness, she complied without question as he pulled her up and off the bed.  They fled from the white room without hesitation, swinging the door wide open as they burst into the fluorescent lit hallway beyond.  She nearly tripped over the two unconscious soldiers who now laid on the ground at their feet, one of their radios crackling loudly.

>   **“*crackle* Banshee One, do you copy?  Over. *crackle*”**

“ _Was that you_??” She started to ask, but Goodweather hushed her as he tugged her down the hall and into a side room, quickly but quietly shutting the door behind them and peeking through the crack as a group of men rushed past and into the room from which they had just retreated.

“ _Here_.”  Ephraim shoved one of the two handguns that he had collected from the guards towards her and she took it without question, checking that the safety was off and that it was fully loaded.  He waited for a moment as the group rushed back the other way before he attempted to pull her out into the hallway again, but her hand shot out and she held him in place, staring at the ground as she did so.

Ephraim tugged again just as a straggler passed the door, jogging to rejoin the group as he spoke into his radio.

“That’s an affirmative.   _Banshee Prime_ is MIA.  Over.”

The radio crackled back to him, “Lock down the exits.   ** _DO NOT ENGAGE._** Repeat.   ** _DO NOT ENGAGE._** _Over_.”

 _Shit, that was close.  How did she …_  Ephraim looked back to Dawn, who was still staring at the ground.   _Was she listening to something?_  He furrowed his brow at her, not wishing to make a noise when she suddenly burst past him out the door as she ran the other way down the hall.  Ephraim clamoured after her.

“That’s the wrong way!” He tried, but she interrupted, overflowing with confidence, **_“THIS WAY!”_**

Ephraim looked down the hallway the other direction again, pausing briefly, “That’s _not_ the way out.”  He gasped to her under his breath, but she was already out of sight.  “ ** _SHIT_**.”  He cursed as he ran after her.

_Where the fuck was she going?!_

 

* * *

 

“So … _not alien_?”  Shaw’s sarcasm had become tiresome and Quinlan had decided to no longer reply to any of his questions.  Now the old man was simply trying to bait him into further communication.

“Where did you learn _Latin_?  Has your kind been here before?  How long have you been planning this invasion?”

There was a knock on the door and the General left his presence again.  More secret conversations in the hallways.

>   **Shaw** :  What is it, Corporal?
> 
> **Soldier** : Sir … we’ve detected some movement on the western front.  Moving in slowly, about four miles out.
> 
> **Shaw** : What type of movement?
> 
> **Soldier** : Sir, a lot of it.
> 
> **Shaw** : That moves things up then, doesn’t it?  Get Rubinstein in here.  Tell her it’s time.  Sound the sirens.  Ready the men.
> 
> **Soldier** : Yes sir.
> 
> There were papers exchanged and he heard the General re-enter the room.

“Looks like there’s a rescue party comin’ for you.”  Shaw threw down papers that showed a thermal layout of the camp and the surrounding mileage.  There was a mass of red on the map.

His father had found them.  Quinlan cringed.  He thought he had been careful, dispatching the scouts, but it seems as though it might have been ill planned.  Looking at the mass, it was easily twenty [cohorts](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCohort_%28military_unit%29&t=MWIzODMyNzhlODUwNWVjNzYyZTVkNGE1OTg4YzM4MTIyYjRlMTJkZSw3NHc0MU5DUg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155909835353%2Fchapter-14&m=1) of strigoi.

 _In Nexu._  The _Master_ could feel that he was injured _and_ subdued.  His _Father_ could _feel_ his worry.  If push came to shove, he wondered if he might be able to exact enough control over his body during the electrocution to remove himself from the confines entirely.  He was willing to try at the very least.  He needed to find Dawn.

 ** _Damnation_**.

The metal door opened again and he smelled the Doctor as she approached, her heart was a flurry of beats as she approached him.  He assumed she was here to try and kill him now.

Quinlan finally spoke again.

“This is not a rescue.  They come to _destroy_ me.”

Shawn chuckled at the _assumed_ deception that Quinlan was _obviously_ trying to spin, “Oh yeah?  And why would they do that?”

“Because I am the only one who can **_stop_** them.  I am the only one they **_fear_**.”

Shaw’s smile faded and he stared at the dhampir, “You’ll forgive me if I don’t buy that.”  He stood and waved a hand for the woman to approach further as she uncapped the needle in her shaking hands.

She was quite lovely, overall, but Quinlan knew he wished for _another face_ , one more spotted, one less covered with needless makeup, should it be the last one that he ever sees.  She was timid as she came face to face with him, her visage was slightly sad as she spoke to him, “I’m going to give you something to **_relax_** you, alright?”

Her red hair was a bouncy mess of curls as she leaned toward him.  Her lips were lusciously full and she smelled grotesquely of overwhelming chemicals.  To the human nose, it was likely more appealing.  He detected it was _supposed_ to mimic some kind of floral scent, but he had never cared for perfume.

He detected something _off_ in her demeanor.  When she would reach for him, he _could_ lean into the chair and bring her down.  The amperage was likely set high enough to kill a human and though he wished her no ill will, he figured that might buy him a few more minutes at least, while they found another person to administer whatever was in the syringe that she now held before him.

She flicked the glass tube with her finger several times to dislodge the bubbles within it, and she looked back to Quinlan, speaking again.  It was a lot of information to give someone you were about to execute, he mused.

“There won’t be _any pain_.  Don’t worry, it should work _pretty fast_.  You’ll be out before you know it …”  She stared into his eyes.  She was trying to tell him something and her heart beat furiously as she leaned in and squirted a tiny bit of the liquid out to push the extra air from the syringe when Quinlan smelled the liquid at its tip.

_It was … saline._

“I appreciate your _kindness_ , Doctor.”  He covertly assured her as she leaned in and injected him with the harmless fluid.

He was not sure how long pretty _fast_ should be, but he waited a good minute before acting out increasingly fatigued behavior, closing his eyes slowly.

“You sure that will be enough to keep him under while–”  Shaw asked.

“I am not alright with this, Tom.  I am not an _executioner_.”

“I don’t give a damn what you are _comfortable_ with.  This is the _Army_.  It’s not something you get to _opt_ in conditionally.”

“I’m a Doctor before I’m a soldier.  My oath is to respect life.  I’m not going to have any part of this.”

“Then send me someone who will.  Dr. Banks?  In the meantime, get this piece of _alien shit_ out of my sight.”

 

He heard the Doctor depart in a huff and then more footsteps enter the room, making their way to the back of his chair as they began to disconnect things.  They were _deactivating_ it.  He heard the exact moment when the slight hum of the current stopped.  He could break himself free at this point, but he decided it wasn’t worth the effort and patiently waited for them to remove the restraints.  They unhinged the covers and though the rods were still through him in all four locations, they were completely exposed, he simply needed to slide himself off of them now.

 _Excellent_.

Quinlan opened his eyes and looked up to his pathetic prey, smiling slightly, as the soldier gulped meekly in return, the graveness of the current situation flooding over the poor young man.

_“Ooh … shit.”_

The soldier hit the floor with a satisfying thump.  There was another one to the right of him, two more who had pushed the gurney in and then the General.

Quinlan wondered at once where his weapons might be, but decided that lethal force would not be necessary for the few who remained.  The soldiers were no problem, and none of them had time to even draw their pistols before they were sharing the ground with their first friend.  

By the time Quintus had rounded the table, the General had drawn and aimed, but he was no longer there, plucking the gun from the old man’s grip as he broke it in half in front of him.  This mere act would have terrified most men, but the General stood unmoved.  He smiled, expecting Quinlan to do what Shaw _assumed_ he would do next, but he did not.

“As you were too rude to let me introduce myself, _General Shaw_.  My name is _General Quintus Sertorius_.  I was born in Rome, not amongst the stars.”  Quinlan thought the man might try to scream and he was prepared if he did, but Shaw simply stared at him, waiting for more of his men to arrive no doubt.  Quinlan removed the mask that had been surrounding his face while he spoke.

“I have been _protecting_ your kind from this _invasion_ for nearly two thousand years.  As I have said, I am **_not_** your enemy.”  Quinlan knew he was still too weak and though he could hear movement in the hallway, in his current state, it was difficult to assess how many there were.

“I cannot fault you for your actions, but understand that you are not the only one to have lost those they love to … _this pestilence_.”

He moved around the old man as he spoke frankly.  Shaw said nothing in return.

“Pity … I might have been the very best thing to an ally that you could have had.”

Quinlan slid his hands around the old man’s neck and though he tried to _scream_ now, the pressure on his windpipe prevented it and the man begrudgingly went to sleep in his arms.  He was careful as he set him down in his chair and rested his head on the table.  He would wake with a terrible headache, he was sure, but he would live.

This man was not his enemy, even if he had been foolish and rude.  One of the soldiers groaned as he attempted to pull himself up from the ground.

“Ah … will you be my first volunteer, then?”  Quinlan gorged himself on the poor man and there was little left in the body when he was finished.  There was no _Poet_ here to demand unnecessary mercy from him and so he had none to show these fools.  He lacked time as he needed to find her and he did not wish to get flanked from behind after he fled.

So he took more he needed, he took more than his fill and his body swam with their power.  When he could drink no more, he finished the others quickly before pillaging their bodies for their weaponry.  It mattered not, this was more mercy than the impending strigoi army would show them.

When he left he room, only the General still breathed.

 

* * *

 

“I don’t understand how you knew this was here.”  Ephraim said as they pulled the boxes down in the back supply room, exposing a long forgotten door.

“Long answer … short answer?”  Dawn was curt as they hurried, pulling all the boxes down.

Ephraim frowned at her, “Short answer?”

_“I’m psychic.”_

“Uh huh.”  Ephraim dismissed her statement and she shrugged.

They were out the door and she stopped, halting the doctor with her arm.

>   _Where next?_  She queried the woman within.

Silence followed.

Dawn became frustrated at once and verbalized the question, “Where next??”  Ephraim blinked, “We need to get Dutch.”

> “Head east, you can make your exit there–”

“NO.   _Where is Quinlan_?”  She thought he had died when she watched those soldiers unload into him from afar, but he was there … in her dream.  The woman had given away that he was still alive.  Ephraim tried to answer, “He’s taken care of.”

>  “He will be fine.  You need to–”

_“Where is Quinlan?”_

>  “Please … get yourself to safety–”

Ephraim blinked, “I don’t know where they took him, but–”

 **“ _Where is Quinlan?_ ”**  She demanded the spot on the ground in front of her.  She had had enough of this _bullshit_.  “You think you can pick and chose when to help me.  You _think_ you know what’s _best_ for me?!”

Ephraim blinked again, “I … I’m sorry?  I really don’t know–”

>   **“Do not question my–”**

**_“ENOUGH!”_**  Dawn screamed loud enough to cause Ephraim to duck down into the shadows of the back of the building.  The piercing, ravaging, painful hum began and the view in front of her shifted in and out, before a woman suddenly stood before her, just as she had in the dream.

Her clothes were simple, her skin was dark, her eyes a deep and beautiful amber.  She was younger than Dawn, or she appeared so at least.  She looked around, confused for a moment, before she spoke.

>  “What is _this_?  What … ”

Dawn turned to Ephraim, “Do you see that?”

Ephraim blinked again as he realized suddenly he wasn’t the one that she was speaking to, “See what?  You are really starting to freak me out here.  They gave you a pretty powerful sedative and I think … ”  He was still talking …

> “ _What have you done?_ ”  She questioned her as she looked around herself.

Dawn had wanted her help … needed her help … desperately … she had **_demanded it_**.

 ** _“Where is he?”_**  She demanded more now from the confused entity yet again and the woman seemed to consider for a moment and her concern washed away, conceding entirely.

>  “Sub-basement, Level 5, Administration Building Three.  He really doesn’t need you though.”

“I’m _really tired_ of **_everyone else_** deciding what’s best for me … which way?”

> “South.”

Ephraim blinked, taken back by her words, “ _I’m sorry?_ ” but Dawn was already moving at nearly a full sprint.

“Where are you going?!”  Ephraim called out after her before he quickly just followed.

 

* * *

 

Gus and Fet locked eyes as the sirens began to sound around the entire base.

“Uh oh.”  Fet stood from his cot and looked towards the noise, beyond the chain linked fence that confined them into the area, “That ain’t good.   _Shit_.”

“Ese, I think our plans just moved up.”  Gus checked the hidden gun in his belt.

“Time ta make some noise, yeah?”  Fet nodded.

Both men began to run toward the entry to the tent area.


	98. 14.4 - Torment

Quinlan wasn’t sure what floor he was on, but as he swiftly moved from corner to corner down the hallways, he carefully listened and peered down each new path, dispatching the soldiers in his way.  At first, he was able to do so stealthily, however the last seven or so, he’d just started to shoot.  The building was large, and he was unsure of which direction to go exactly, until he passed a room that contained a familiar scent, one of overwhelming chemical florals.

He found the red headed doctor crouching behind the door, a gun confidently in her hand.  She likely took shelter here after the gunfire had started.  As he stared down at her, he paused for just a moment, giving her the option of _trying_ to shoot him but she looked at the gun for a moment before lowering it entirely.

“Wise choice, _Doctor_.”   _Smart_.  He did not like getting shot at, regardless if she had tried to prove herself an ally or not.  “Come.  Which way?”  He reached down and grabbed her elbow, ignoring her weak protest as he forced her out of the room and into the hallway, whose fluorescents were flickering on and off at random intervals.  What looked like fire alarm lights flashed an obnoxious red.  There was a distant siren sound, but it was muffled and from some number of levels away.

“The stairs are this way.”  She pointed left, but as they neared the corner, Quinlan detected the sound of the boots and he was able to jerk the woman back just in time as the bullets began to fly down the path in front of them, ripping holes into the concrete walls.

He flung her back behind him and she hit the wall with a thud as he took a spot near the corner, pushing her back with the backside of his forearm to prevent her from any further careless movement.  Bullets tore at the wall just on the other side of his head as he reloaded his weapon with one of his many pilfered magazines.

Looking up to him with surprised eyes, she managed to speak meekly, uttering a hushed “ _Thank you._ ”  She was staring at him in silent awe for a moment, bewildered at his speed and strength, but there was no time to delay as he heard the men on the radios calling for more backup.  Their radios crackled and echoed inside of the concrete walls.

> “That’s an affirmative.   _Banshee Prime_ is MIA.  Over.”
> 
> “Lock down the exits.   _DO NOT ENGAGE_. Repeat.   ** _DO NOT ENGAGE._** Over.”

He heard a man down the hallway respond with his radio next, “ ** _Echo Tango has broken containment_**.  Over.”

> “* **crackle** *   ** _Echo Tango_** is a go to engage.  Lethal Force Approved. * **crackle** *”

Quinlan grinned. _Lethal force indeed._  He estimated at least eight soldiers, and they were armed with assault rifles.  Sighing, he looked down at the pitiful handgun in his grip.  He missed his guns, as he would not have hesitated to confront these men if he had _his_ own weapons.

“Are those the only stairs?”  He asked.

“Yes.”

“What floor are we on?”  He heard the men attempting to close the distance as he reached his hand out and shot a few rounds down the hallway to deter them from further advancing on their location.

“Sub level 5.”

“Any other exits?”  He asked as she shook her head at him, her hair bouncing with the motion.  “An elevator?”

“It’s not working, the alarm is–”

“ _Good_.  Where?”  The men attempted to close the gap again and Quinlan gave them a few more carefully placed rounds as he heard one man fall.  He was wasting precious ammunition on this stand off.  “ ** _Doctor_**?”

“This way.”  He followed as she led him back the way that he had just come.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim followed her as fast as he could.  Her sudden rush of adrenaline had given her almost inhuman speed and the base had become a chaos of people, as they ran between buildings.  The trees gave them proper cover as they made their way south while his little comrade ignored him and continued to speak to herself.

“I _knew_ I should have gotten Q.”  He said to himself through his pant as they rested behind a hedge and Dawn pointed ahead.

“ _That building._ ”

“ _How do you know?_ ”  He attempted one more time but she continued to ignore him as she checked the bullets in the gun he’d given her once more, verifying the safety was off.

“ _Ready_?”  She asked and before he could claim he wasn’t, she ran across the small yard in front of the building as gunfire began to pop rapidly in other parts of the base.

“Oh fuck … Wait!  there are guards!”  Ephraim clamoured after her, pulling on her arm, “Let me do the talking.”

> “They have been told to subdue you if possible and _not_ to engage.”

When the doors opened and they entered the small lobby area, the only visible guard was behind the plexiglass, locked securely.  The door to the innards of the building were metal with a keypad affixed on the wall to its right.

> “There are two more behind the door.  A man and a woman.  Do not _underestimate_ her.”

“Doctor Goodweather”  The young man called to him through a speaker behind the bulletproof glass, “The base is in lock down, Sir.  You need to return–”  He was interrupted as he looked down to the screen which wasn’t visible to either of them, a pale look of concern washing over his face.

“Go.”  She urged him from behind, nudging him in the back as Goodweather walked calmly to the keypad and pulled his lanyard free of his jacket, quickly attempting to badge in.  HIs fingers calmly trying to type the numbers into the pad before he heard the guard speaking, however this time it wasn’t through a speaker.

The man stood in front of their shielded area, gun raised and pointed, “Sir, please step away from the _woman_.”  Ephraim stood between her and the man, as he punched in the last number and the magnetic lock on the door clicked as it unlocked.

“I can’t really do that right now …” Ephraim offered apologetically as he put his hands up in surrender, stepping forward, keeping his body between her and the officers.  As she pulled the door open, she took a breath, stepping into the tiny hallway before shutting the door behind her.  Preparing herself for close quarters combat as the woman’s words resonated in her mind.

_A man and a woman.  Do not **underestimate** her._

The closest one was the man, and he hesitated as he looked at the tiny woman that closed the three feet between them quickly.

“Do not hesitate.  Do not flinch.   _He will kill you. **They** will **all** kill you._ ”

She’d never shot anyone like that before … not in _cold blood_.  But this was far from that, wasn’t it?  He had no time to raise his rifle and his eyes were wide when he saw her raise the barrel.  She didn’t hesitate nor flinch, but she did shut her eyes until she heard him hit the ground.  In that fraction of a moment, she seemed to lose all sense of purpose as the gun slipped out of her grip and fell to the floor.  The other guard had already begun screaming, pointing her rifle toward her.  She was at the other end of the hallway.

As Dawn dropped to her knees, she wasn’t sure if it was because the guard had shouted for her to do so or if it was out of shock over her last action.  She stared at the man before her and the woman’s screams to the side of her seemed to almost vanish …

_Oh my god … What did I .._

> **_“SNAP OUT OF THIS!”_ **

When the hilt of the woman’s gun connected with the side of Dawn’s face, on her upper cheek, she flew face first down and over the body.  For a moment she thought she might die, this woman might kill her out of sheer anger or panic.

_Oh god … Quintus._

The woman kicked her gun away but Dawn saw _it_ , latched to his belt and as the soldier screamed for her to get up, she palmed it carefully while she stood in front of her.  She could feel the blood running down the side of her face as the woman instructed her to turn around, and she complied, so very slowly.

“Hands on your head!”  She began to raise them, mid turn and heard the gun shift down slightly as the woman fumbled to get her handcuffs loose.  It was the perfect moment and Dawn flicked the object down with enough force that the baton telescoped entirely out.

The woman’s eyes only had enough time to grow slightly larger as she started to raise her gun again, but the end of the baton was already on the woman’s wrist, causing her to release her grip on the gun as she stumbled back a step, trying to raise it again, while Dawn swung furiously, connecting the end of the metal stick to various points on the woman’s body.  The last swing was to the side of the woman’s head, she swung it hard and she swung it well.

The door clicked open and Dawn turned, holding the baton ready to strike again as Ephraim came in.  He had a brand new bloody nose, but looked otherwise unscathed.

“Holy shit what happened in–”

“Come on!” And she turned back to the hallway and the dark skinned woman that stood at the end of it.  “Which way?”  She inquired to her and the woman shrugged.  “Which way??”  Dawn pushed again.

> “I do not know.  I cannot go and look, _you’ve trapped me here._ ”

_“Fuck.”_

 

* * *

 

“Where is Dawn?”  He questioned as they walked.

“Dawn?”

“The woman.  Where are they keeping her?”

“You mean _Maxwell_?  Ephraim’s taking care of –”

“Answer the question, Doctor.”  He had little faith in Ephraim’s ability to do much of anything and he realized he should get as much information out of the Doctor, just in case they both could not make it out of this facility.  They rounded another corner and Rebecca was having a hard time keeping up as he increased his pace, looking behind them periodically.

“Infirmary Building 3.  It’s to the North, but Ephra–”

“How far is the elevator?”  He stopped at the next corner and stared down to the ground for a moment, listening to the footsteps that were accumulating in front of them.

“Two hallways over.”

“I fear we will not make it that far.  There are many.  Are you good at _acting_ , Doctor?”

Rebecca smiled deeply, “I’m not bad at _role playing_.”  She raised a brow to him and he furrowed his back to her showing his uncomfortableness with her attempted flirtation.

 _Hmmm_.

“Instruct them I have fled.”  He took her gun from her grip, pressing his fingers to his lips implying the need for silence, as he ducked into the dark room behind her.  He checked the number of bullets in her gun before stuffing both firearms into his belt.  He missed his own weapons even more at this point, as the next part would have been much easier with a sword.  It was less than ten seconds before the four men entered the hallway heading toward the direction from which they had just come.

“Rubinstein!  The building has been evacuated!  You need to move out!”  One of them shouted to her as they approached, guns raised and pointing down the hallway past her.

She stuttered, “I know.  The subject … has escaped.  He .. It went–”

She was a terrible actor, it seemed, but Quinlan had no intention of letting them pass at all, he only wished to get behind them.  He quickly stepped out as the group whisked by the door.  He dispatched the one in the rear by front thrust kicking him in the very center of his lower back.  The soldier flew forward as his back cracked, hitting the other three men like a bowling ball, causing two to tumble to the ground and the third to stumble, hitting the right wall as he spun around.  Quinlan snapped his neck before quickly dispatching the other two at full speed and without hesitation.

The doctor stood with her hand to her mouth and watched as Quinlan stole one of their automatic assault rifles and took as much ammunition as he could fit into his tight pant pockets.  This gun would be better, but still not to his liking.

“Where are my _weapons_?”  There was no answer and he turned to see her still in a quiet state of shock by his actions, “ _Where are my weapons_?”  He asked again.

“That’s Peters … I play poker with him on–”

“ _ **DOCTOR**!  My weapons!?_ ”  He snapped at her, grabbing her shoulder as he gripped it tightly and she finally looked at him, her eyes broken with emotion.

“Umm … First floor, I think. They were logged into evidence.”

Quinlan started to walk again and when he noticed that she stood, staring down at the men, he did not break stride as he called back to her, “You are _welcome_ to stay with them.”

The rudeness of his words seemed to jog her loose of whatever mental battle that was currently ensuing in her mind and she clumsily turned, following him quickly again, “ _Excuse me?_!  I saved your life back there!”

Quinlan smirked, though she couldn’t see it, “ _Doctor_ … the only thing you did was convince me _not to kill you_.”  He was 98% sure that he could have freed himself from that chair, regardless of how painful it would have been.

“ _Are you kidding me_?”  She called after him, continuing to lag behind the dhampir.

As they rounded the last corner, the elevator stood before them but it remained inoperable due to the building’s lockdown, having been sent to the bottom floor, with its doors wide open.  Quinlan stepped within, looking up until he found the proper ceiling tile that housed the hatch to the shaft.  She timidly entered it after him and watched as he jumped up, first popping the latch away, then grabbed the sides and pulled himself on top of the elevator with impressive ease.

She waited for a moment and he popped his head back down, looking at her.

“If you are coming, then I hope you are a good climber.  I will **_not_** be carrying you.”

Quinlan reached down and offered her a hand up.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim led the way.  Luckily he knew the building well, as her new friend didn’t seem to be much use, until …

> “ _In here!!!_ ”  The girl pointed to a room happily, very pleased with herself, “ _HERE_!”

Dawn broke from Ephraim and headed down the side hallway.

“Damnit, not that way!”  Ephraim followed begrudgingly.

The door was locked and had no window to peer within.  She eyed the girl who looked happy as she nodded back to her.

 _Fuck Stealth Mode._  Dawn unloaded a few rounds into the handle as Ephraim slapped his forehead.  After that, it only took a good nudge with her shoulder to jar it open.

Dawn’s face lite up immediately as she stared at the items on the table in front of her.  It was some kind of storage room and it looked like someone was in the middle of cataloguing and boxing them.  As she approached the table, a familiar scent hit her.  It was a mixture of metal and leather and she smiled massively at it.  Quickly picking up the vest, she threw it on, then next pulled the black jacket on over it, but threw the larger coat back to Ephraim.  She was definitely not tall enough to wear it, it would impede her.

“Put it on for now.”  She said as she turned back to the table and picked up the wolf headed sword and its back sheath, handing it to Ephraim also, “ _This too._ ”

His eyes lit up with childish glee as he saw it, “ ** _Niiiiiice_**!”

She turned back to the box, smiling greedily now, as she pulled the under arm holsters out next, throwing them across her arms as she put them on as well.  They were ridiculously loose, but everything was loose on her.  Hopefully she wouldn’t be wearing them for too long.  She pulled the two guns that laid in the bottom of the box, inserting one of them into one of her new leather accessories, before gripping the other in her right hand, the baton firmly in her left.

“Good job.”  She praised the girl as she walked passed her and exited the room.  The girl was still pleased with herself before she turned back to the real person in the room, “K … _where now_?”

Ephraim looked down at the gun with wide eyes, “Do you know how to use that thing?  Maybe I should–”

For the first time, Dawn shared with Ephraim one of her glorious little smiles and a chill ran down his spine, “Point and Shoot, right?”  She said as she winked to him.

 

* * *

 

“What’s goin’ on man, I can’t see shit!”  Gus shouted back to Fet, hoping that the man’s towering stature was affording him a better view of things.  They had run to the entrance of the fenced area and found that the soldiers were not allowing anyone to leave, and they pushed their way furiously to the front of the mob.  “This is bad, man!”  Gus shouted.

“Yeah, I know.  Dey gonna start a stampede!  Come on, dis way!” Fet saw an opening and weaved around the people, pushing their way to the front.

“Sir, you are gonna need to get back.  SIR, STEP BACK!”  The soldiers in the front were instructing the mob to back away from the area.  They had already closed the gate and locked it.  Gunfire still popped to the west and the mob’s panic level was on high.

“Hey, HEY!  What’s goin on??”  Fet called out to the soldier who had been screaming.  He’d managed to build a rapport with the man over the last few days.

“Nothing you need to worry about.  We’ve been instructed to keep everyone contained for now.”

“Man, you gotta let us outta here!”  Fet screamed.

“I’m sorry, _Vasily_.  We’ve been ordered–”

“FUCK YOUR ORDERS MAN, dees people are sitting ducks in here!”  He tried to reason, but the soldier was unmoved.

“We have the situation under control.  Please step back sir!”  The gunfire continued and the mob’s restlessness was quickly growing.

“ _The fuck they do_ ,” Gus cursed as he turned back to the large man and he lifted his shirt slightly, showing Vasily the but of the hidden gun.

Fet nodded, “ ** _Do it._** ”

Gus pulled the firearm free and unloaded it into the lock that was preventing the gate from opening.


	99. 14.5 - Torment

> _Three hours earlier._

“You need to let him go, Becca.”  Ephraim was standing behind her suddenly as she walked down the hallway.  She had just verified the woman was fully sedated for now and she had been  called back to the other building to begin preliminary examination of _the subject_.

“Eph!”  She snapped at him sharply as she looked nervously down the hall both directions and towards the people who were shuffling by, “They’re looking _for you!_ ”  She chirped, confused by his sudden appearance.

He waved her into his hiding spot in the supply room and she reluctantly complied.  She’d always had a soft spot for the smug prick.  She knew he wasn’t a _fool_.

“I know … Trust me … _I know_.”  He responded as she looked him up and down and, as always, she could read his emotions and intentions quite well.

“Where is your–”  She was about to ask where his guard was, as he was apparently completely alone now.

“Uh … Sleeping.  He’s fine.   _He’s fine_.”  He reassured her.

“ _You need to get out of here._  They want answ–”

“I know.  But I can’t … you have to let him go.”

“Who?  The thing?   _That thing_?”

“He’s not a _thing_ , Becca.  He’s our only chance.”

“Eph, that’s not good enough.  You’ve been keeping secrets for weeks.  You think I can’t read you like a book?  What is that thing?  What’s the woman?”

“The woman?”  Ephraim blinked innocently.

“She just took down 50 soldiers with a scream–”

“I don’t know … “ Ephraim was clearly confused by the question and he looked down for a moment as she accepted that he was truly ignorant of any answer, “ _All I know is … he’s the only chance we have …_ ”

“Eph, I can’t–”

“You need to trust me.  We are _losing_ this war.  You _need_ to trust me now.  You used to.”  She stared back into his eyes which burned with the need to be heard.  She could read his desperation and his truth.

“That was a long time ago.”  She sighed and considered carefully before proceeding with her next demand, “O.K.  Enough **_BULLSHIT_** _Goodweather_.  You tell me everything … ** _right now._** ”

Ephraim complied, and told her everything.

 

* * *

>   _Now._

Quinlan had to help the doctor more than he really wanted to.  She was not a good climber, but as they came to the ground level, he jumped from the back of the shaft to the front in one fluid leap, gripping the doors as he pulled them open, easing himself into the ground floor with complete silence.

“Jump.”  He commanded as she looked back at him from the other side with worry but she complied as he caught her and pulled her out of the shaft.  Her face was dirty with elevator grease and he was grateful that at least the smell of it had drown out the overwhelming perfume.

“This way.”  She prompted him towards the exit and he tensed suddenly, not speaking before he started to walk the other direction.  “No, that’s the way to the _stairs_!”

 _Indeed_.

His heart rate increased suddenly as he cared not for the exit at this time as he could smell a familiar metal, leather, and _something_ _else_.  As he neared the location of the smell, the sound of gunfire popped furiously in the hallway and Quinlan increased his speed.

The soldiers were focused on whatever was ahead of them, unaware that he approached from behind.  They had no idea what was occurring as the dhampir picked all five of them off, one at a time, from the back to the front.  As the last man hit the ground, he smiled as he braced himself for the reunion with the people that were bounding down the hallway around the corner from them.  He already knew who it was and he swung his rifle to his back in preparation taking a deep breath to steady himself.

The doctor lurched forward past the corner and he had considered pulling her back momentarily before he saw the end of a baton smack the lady in the arm that held the gun, sending it falling to the ground as she let out a torturous yelp, stumbling back as she grabbed herself at the point of impact.

Quinlan’s brows raised significantly as he cleared the corner to halt _the Poet_ from continuing her attack but he was instantly taken back by her appearance, delaying him momentarily from stopping her next strike.

The distraction had stemmed from the realization that _his_ articles of clothing were loosely draped over _her_ small frame, as well as _his holsters_ that dangled aimlessly around her torso, rocking back and forth against her curves as she beat the woman senseless.

In his almost dazed state, he watched the leather for moment longer before finally stepping forward slowly, however it was too late and she had already swung it furiously again, hitting the woman across the quadricep next and sending her collapsing to her knees with another whimper.

Ephraim was screaming and lunging towards them both and the little woman’s eyes were locked onto the red-head with pure viciousness and recognition as she attempted another strike, this time aimed at the doctor’s head.  Her thin lips were pursed together in anger.  Quinlan caught her swing by grasping her hand within his grip, causing her to finally attract her full attention as she saw him.

> _How many times do I have to tell you_
> 
> _Even when you’re crying you’re beautiful too_
> 
> _The world is beating you down, I’m around through every mood_
> 
> _You’re my downfall, you’re my muse_ _  
> _
> 
> _My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues_

“ _Enough_!”  He _chortled in joy_ to her as her face flushed with relief over his sudden presence, “ _I am certain you are the **victor**!_ ”  She spun towards him fully, dropping the baton as she buried her head face first into the center of his chest, her arms losing no momentum as they enveloped around his torso completely.  He imagined that if he had been _human_ , the shear strength of her clasp would have left him breathless.  

There was no hesitation as he greedily returned the embrace in full, wrapping her tightly within his arms.  He held her around her shoulders as he bent to press the side of his chin forcefully against her sweaty temple, inhaling her in as deeply as he possibly could, rattling fiercely with each breath he took.

“ _They … shot you … so many times … they …_ ”  He could barely understand the words that she muffled into his chest, unwilling to pull away as she spoke and he closed his eyes with the closeness, not wishing it to end yet.  They had a moment as Ephraim was checking on the state of the woman who was still struggling to recover from her recent assault.

 

“I am fine.”  He assured her, taking another breath in.

“ _I thought–_ ”  Her voice cracked as he could tell she was on the very verge of tears.  Had he ever heard the _Poet_ cry?  Perhaps out of anger?  But _not like this_ … not for **_him_**.

“ _Please do not.  I am fine._ ”  He assured her again hoping to subdue the emotion that wished to erupt from her.  He did not want to see her cry, regardless if it was joyful.  And all at once, Quinlan was struck with a feeling that he hadn’t felt in over a millennium, a feeling he assumed he would never be privileged to feel again …

If he had _any doubts_ … And of course he had.  He had many doubts, _endless doubts_ … But now within her trembling arms, listening to her quivering voice and trying desperately to halt her tears … _Right now_ , was proof to him that she did in fact care for _him_.  Quite a bit, it seemed … possibly as much as he cared for her.  His eyes remained closed as he wished this moment to continue and she made no effort to pull away from him either.

_Oh gods._

_What has happened?_

_What has he **allowed** to happen?_

“ _You crazy bitch!_ ”  Quinlan heard Rubinstein spit at her from Ephraim’s aiding arms, “ _I’m on your side!_ ”

The footsteps down the hall patterned towards them and still Quinlan remained unmoved until Ephraim’s frantic voice rocked them back to reality.

“ ** _GUYS?!_**  We need to move!”

She was the first to pull back, seemingly embarrassed by her action as she brushed the moisture from her eye, attempting to hide her face from them as she turned slightly.

“Wait, you should not be here!   ** _Why did you come here?!_** ”  Quinlan realized quickly as he looked down to her and she looked up at him with innocent eyes, only supplying a shrug in response.

“ _That’s what I said!!!_ ”  Ephraim cried.

There was no further time to delay and Quinlan reached out, carefully pulling the holsters from her shoulders without bothering to ask permission.  Looking down at the vest and jacket as he took the uzi from her hand and she reluctantly began to peel his clothing off as the corner of his mouth curved in a miniature grin, “Keep them for now.  I shall get them _later_.”  He checked the ammunition of the gun before stating, “I believe that they look better on you anyways.”

In actuality, they looked _ridiculous_ on her, but he wished to invoke a smile and his manipulation worked, however it was short lived as the red-headed doctor chimed in from behind them, “I doubt that.”

 _Hmmm_.

He holstered the loose micro uzi before suddenly realizing Ephraim was sporting a familiar long black coat, equipped with a sword and all.  He had been completely distracted before and he stared at the doctor for a brief moment before Ephraim begrudgingly gave up the coat, grumbling to himself, “You don’t think it looks better on me _too_?”

Quinlan eagerly pulled the coat over himself and was pleasantly surprised to find his gloves in the pockets and he pulled each one out as he slipped them back onto his pale hands.  He did not feel as vulnerable any longer, and he pulled at the leather straps on all of his harnesses, making them tight against his body.

 _Ah … Much better.  Good._  He smirked to himself before he realized everyone was watching him intently.

“Are you done, yet?” Dawn asked as she raised an eyebrow, “ _Can we go now?_ ”

“ _Nearly_.” Quinlan reached and retrieved the baton from the ground, handing it back to her, “ _Keep this_.  You are _quite_ good with it.”  He rattled unintentionally as he shot a look towards the angry red-head who glared down at the weapon.

As they eventually exited the building, Ephraim was shocked to see no one awaiting them on the other side of the door.  The entire base was in a state of complete disarray and people seemed to be running everywhere, while gunfire, both small and large caliber, sounded endlessly at the western side of the base.  “ _What the fuck is going on?_ ”  He questioned immediately.

Rubinstein was the first to speak up, “ _Infected_ attack.  There are thousands.  The attack started–”

“There is easily over ten thousand.  The _Master_ was attempting to take advantage of my weakened state.  You have only yourselves to blame for this.”  He sneered to the woman, likely not the best time for this, but he wished to get it off his chest anyways.

Rubinstein blinked at Quinlan’s reveal, “How did they know you were–”  Her words were cut short by an explosion that suddenly ripped into one of the near buildings to the east.  All of the action had been isolated to the west until now.

“Shit, what–”  Ephraim began but Quinlan looked up, interrupting immediately.

“That was the stockade, Doctor.”

“ _Dutch_.”  Ephraim stated in a panic and began to run quickly towards the commotion, while the group followed.

 

* * *

 

Fet had set the charge and then he ducked behind the corner with Gus as Dutch pulled the mattress up to shield herself from any shrapnel.

“I still don’t know where you woulda got–,” Gus started to ask again and Fet just grinned madly, winking at the man and cutting him off as he shouted back to Dutch.

“ ** _FIRE IN THE HOLE!_** ”  He clicked the button is his hand and the explosion shook the walls around them.

The explosives ripped through the hinges perfectly and it look little effort for the two men to pry the door away entirely and Dutch ran directly into Fet’s awaiting arms, gripping him as tightly as she could and he huffed at it, pulling back to cup her now dirty face in his hands as they coughed through the dust that permeated the air now.

“Hey … I told you we were gettin’ you outta here, _right_?”

“Hey, this is all _nice_ , but we gotta get rollin!”  Gus commanded the embrace to end and as they turned and in perfect unison, all three humans jumped in minor shock as they saw a familiar figure standing perfectly still within the entrance, a micro uzi in each of his gloved hands.

“ _Well_?  Are we going?”  He asked almost comically.

_“Bloody hell … yes.”_

 

* * *

 

Quinlan returned with the missing three comrades in tow and Ephraim moved to welcome Dutch, however the reunion was muffled at best.  She wasn’t entirely happy to see him it seemed.

“Which way now?”  Fet asked as he looked around and Quinlan handed the giant man one of his extra handguns that had been situated in his belt.

“The invasion is at the West.  We need to go–” Ephraim started.

“We need a viable escape option.  The _Master_ has no doubt flanked the entire base.  We cannot just begin to run.”  Quinlan efficiently sniped Ephraim’s attempt at a suggestion.

Dawn spied her apparition for the first time since they had left the building.  The woman was running up to them from the west, smiling.  She was pleased with herself yet again, it seemed.

“Then what do you suggest, ese?”  Gus asked, “We gotta–”

Quinlan started to talk through the options, “We will not make it on foot, there are simply too many of them.  We will need some type of vehicle … ”

>   _“Ask the gladiator if he can operate a …”_

Dawn spoke up suddenly, interrupting them loudly as she stared at the figure who prompted her following question to the dhampir, “Can you drive an **_M1A2_**?”

Quinlan grinned madly at the question.  This was the biggest grin that the group, other than Dawn, had ever seen from him, “Which direction?”  He queried her.

Dawn wasn’t even sure what she had just asked, but she pointed as she spoke, “West.  It’s at the gate apparently.”  As Quinlan moved past the _Poet_ , he grabbed her hand pulling her along.

There was a delay in movement from the others as Dutch pointed out the obvious, “That’s towards _the fucking strigoi!  EH!?_  What the bloody hell is an **_M1A2_**?”  She cringed at the question as she remembered riding the bike with the dhampir.

Rubinstein was the next to break into a sprint, following the dhampir and woman, but she turned to them first as she gulped.

**_“It’s a tank.”_ **

 


	100. 14.6 - Torment

As they mounted the grassy knoll, Quinlan pulled her down with him.  They dropped to their bellies and crawled up the embankment until they could view the violence that ensued on the other side of it.

The carnage was severe as strigoi and man battled for control over the installation.  The beasts had already used their numbers to push the troops back from the wall and they climbed it with ease, vaulting themselves over in calculated leaps.  Lines of men stood not far, picking off the mindless intruders as they flung themselves over and into the camp.  Quinlan could tell that their lines would not hold for much longer, the strigoi would overrun them with sheer numbers soon.

He could see their target from here.  There were two M1 Abrams battle tanks, lined up behind the men.  Though they were not yet making use of their main armament, the 120 mm smoothbore gun, all three machine guns were firing.  Two of these guns were being fired from within the safety of the tank, the third, being mounted in front of the loader’s hatch left the man who manned it vulnerable.

 _Excellent_.

Unfortunately, he would need to relieve one of the tanks of their four man crew first and he turned to the people who crouched around him in the darkness.

“Do not advance until I provide cover,”  Quinlan sprang forth without really standing first and he sprinted at full speed towards the closest tank, jumping onto its top with a monstrous thud.  The bright eyed boy within the loader’s hatch attempted to turn, but Quinlan already had his shirt as he flung him with full strength up, out and away from the tank.  The man screamed as he flew through the air.

He armed himself with one of his guns, unholstering it quickly, before jumping down into innards of the tank in a fluid motion dispatching the other two men while being careful not to damage the machinery.  He pulled himself and their bodies from the bowels of the mechanical beast and chucked them to the side.  He knew the pilot was likely aware of the attack as he felt the threads begin to take hold on the ground and the vehicle spun around slowly at first, and then violently with a torque that might have caused a human to be thrown from it.

Quinlan jumped down onto the front which he knew protected the pilot.  The hatch was shut and sealed, as he feared and he grabbed ahold of it with his right hand, pulling on it quite furiously and yet it refused to budge.

_God damn … **tank**._

Quinlan grabbed the hatch with both hands this time, taking a deep breath first before he flexed his biceps and pulled against with all of his dhampir might and yet it still refused to give.  The vehicle lurched backwards and he nearly lost his footing.

_Of course … it’s a **fucking tank.**_

He’d had enough and he squatted down this time, gripping with both hands, flexing his biceps along with his forearm muscles, leveraging as much of his muscle strength as possible, but this time, he pulled up with his legs in concert with the rest.  As he strained, he found himself grunting and then screaming with the effort of it.

“nnnnnnNNNNN   _nnnnnnNNN **AHHHHhhhhh**!!!_ ”  He heard the metal giving way before he _felt_ it and after a tortuous amount of pressure, it released in his grip as he felt the latching mechanism buckle from within.  He spun the hatch to the side and dodged the man’s well aimed bullet before he grabbed the sidearm from his human grip in one hand and his shirt in the other.

“ _Mine_.”  He stated plainly before ripping the soldier from the safety of the tank and chucking him towards the strigoi which had now broken through the barrier of men, likely due to the lack of cover from the tank.

It was rare that he had to use this much effort for anything and he felt impressively light headed suddenly, but it did not stop him from jumping back to the top, taking the manned machine gun which sported a handy gun shield in front of it, aiming it at the impending mob and opening fire.  He glanced back at the knoll momentarily as he spied the figures moving rapidly in his direction.

_Good.  Run.  Fast. **Faster**._

He unloaded into the beasts with merriment as he enjoyed the force of this full sized machine gun.  It was quite a bit more powerful than his mini ones and he grinned at it, picking off each target with pinpoint accuracy.  His preternatural strength gave him much more control over its use as it vibrating violently with each shot.  It was a _good gun_ indeed.

The humans were nearly spent in this battle, but the other tank still unloaded at the invading force along with him.  They had not yet noticed that it had been compromised.  As his humans closed the distance to him, he pondered the _obvious question_ … the tank housed four soldiers, but they were seven in number.  Fet was more than a single person, easily, but Dawn was less.  Some uncomfortable compromises would need to be made.

He wouldn’t have trusted another to drive the second tank and he questioned what strength he had left to remove _another pilot_.  The insides could easily squeeze another two, but that left one …

Gus hit the tank first; he was easily the most athletic and he sprinted and climbed the tank with ease as Quinlan relinquished the gun to him.

“Dat’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout, man!”  The boxer screamed in glee as he slid into the hatch and grabbed the handles, taking over the job of cutting the beasts in half.

Quinlan jumped to the back and helped the others up as they each arrived.  The next was Fet; his massive legs helped him cover more distance than the others, then Dutch.

He pointed to the hatches as he pulled them each effortlessly up, instructing them inside, “Mr. Fet, _gunner’s station_.  Ms. Velders, _commander’s station_ , to the bottom right.   _Quickly please_.”  He already knew that she would easily be the most useful one inside.  He would not admit it to her, but if _Dutch_ had not been present, he might have suggested against the M1A2 as a viable escape option.

Turning, he was shocked to see Dawn next, attempting to scramble up the side without any help.  While he was instructing the others, she had overtaken both of the Doctors in their sprint.  In all honesty, he had expected she would take up the rear due to her short stature, but he smiled as she exceeded his expectations, _as always_.

He pulled her up and halted her from entering the tank, “ _One moment_ ,” as he turned and pulled Ephraim up next, instructing him where to enter, “Loader’s station.”  He turned back pushing Dawn in front of him as they scaled the length of the tank, making their way to the front and he slightly grinned as he heard the woman doctor protesting from the ground.

“ _Hey_!”  She screamed in a panic and Ephraim retreated back to the end of the tank to help his deserted friend up before they squished into the bowels of the tank together.

Quinlan jumped to the lower side of the front and helped Dawn down quickly as she looked within the tiny hatch below them with reluctance, “Oh my god … There’s no space.”

He peered down in the driver’s space.  It was small indeed.  This would be … _challenging_ , but he shrugged, “It will be fine, I am sure we will fit.   _You are small._ ”

Dawn stared at him in disbelief as the tank suddenly became riddled with bullets and he pulled her to him quickly, shielding her as well as he could from the barrage.  The other tank, it seemed, had become savvy to their … _acquisition_.

 ** _“MR. ELIZALDE!”_** He screamed and the man responded immediately.

 ** _“ON IT!”_**  He heard the boxer swing the gun from the strigoi over to the neighboring tank as he sprayed the offender back.   ** _“How you like that?!”_**

Quinlan jolted briefly as a stray bullet struck him squarely in the middle of the right shoulder, **_“IT WILL BE FINE!”_**  He screamed his assurance as he crouched down around her and waited for a break in the shooting before sliding himself down into the tight cockpit first.  She stared down at the lack of any space and delayed again, forcing him to reach up and grab her by the wrist, yanking her down ontop of him just a moment before the bullets began to ricochet off of the metal around them again.

“ ** _Ooooof_** …”  She huffed as he squeezed her down far enough to allow him to swing the latch around by spinning the handle inside and then pulling it down into place.  He’d broken the lock, but luckily the door itself was still functional.

Taking a moment to adjust her on his lap now, he shifted her around on top of him.  She was curled up, sitting sideways, but he needed that space for the control level so he gripped her hips, lifting her up with ease as he repositioned her so that she was now sitting directly on his lap, sliding her legs down on top of his and pulling her shoulders back against his chest firmly.

“ _Ooooof_ …”  She huffed again, “Can’t I just–”  She tried again.

“There is no room.  You would impede the use of the gun.   _Pardon me._ ”  He offered weakly before he pulled the controls in front of them, swinging the grips over.  It was tight, indeed, _very tight_ and as he locked the mechanism into place, she gasped.

“I can’t breath, Qui–”

“If you can _speak_ then you can _breath_.”  He whispered into her ear quietly from behind and she nodded, finally conceding fully with his plan and her body relaxed, becoming limp against him.  He reached around either side of her head to grip the controls of the tank.

It first lurched backwards with such torque that he heard Gus hit the gun shield in front of him, cursing as he did.   _Whoops_.  Quinlan looked at the controls again.

“ _Problem_?”  Dawn questioned, unsure of what to do with herself as she tried to give him as much space as possible in the impossibly tiny space.

“No … _sorry_.   ** _SORRY_**!”  The last word he screamed out to everyone else, but he continued to speak to just her, “It … It has been a _number of years_ …” Quinlan trailed off in thought as he moved the controls and fiddled with pedals yet again and suddenly the tank lurched forward violently and to the right.

_Ah!  There we go.  Hehehe._

The dhampir grinned madly.

**_Hehehe._ **

_Good._

 

* * *

 

Fet sat in childish awe as he stared at all of the computer equipment before him.  He was sitting in the gunner’s station, but it looked like it should have been _engineering station_ as he had _no idea_ what to do next.  He was terrified to press anything and he looked over at Dutch who was already eagerly plugged away at her own equipment with a strange look of glee, pushing buttons at will.

 _“I don’t think you should be messing with that!”_  Rubinstein chastised her out from her spot on Ephraim’s lap in the loader’s station.

“Why not?”  Dutch didn’t even look at her while she answered, “It’s _just_ a computer.”

The tank lurched backward suddenly and unexpectedly as everyone jostled about inside, “ ** _SORRY_**!”  They heard a scream from the front.

“ _Shit_ … Does he even know how to–”  Rubinstein started to question as the tank lurched forward next and to the right and Fet started to laugh out loud at the movement.  The doctor immediately changed her statement, “Ok … How _exactly_ does he know how to drive–”

Ephraim interrupted her with a chuckle, “ _Because_ … he’s been preparing for _this_ job for over a _thousand years._ ”

Fet looked at his own controls again and then back to Dutch, who was still turning various knobs as she stared at her screen, biting her lower lip as she madly fiddled with things.  “Hey!   _What da fuck are you doing?!_ ”  He called out to her and she turned back to him and shrugged massively as she winked at him.

“ _Playing_.”  She waved at the equipment around them, “This whole _bloody_ thing is just one massive computer!”

The tank was still rumbling as it bounced up and over _something large_ , crushing it as did, and Fet was surprised at the speed of it.  They were spinning around and gunfire exploded above and around them everywhere, but in between the shots, all he could hear from the outside was Gus’ wild laughter.

**_“HOW YOU LIKE THAT, PUTO!”_ **

Suddenly another gun started to unload from the tank and Fet looked over at Dutch who had discovered the one mounted above her station.  Unlike the gun that Gus was manning, this one allowed her to shoot from within the confines of the tank itself and now she grabbed it and shot  madly, her thin arms jiggling back and forth with the power of it.

Fet was immediately envious of them both until he heard the dhampir’s loud but distance voice, **_“Mr. Fet!  I will need an exit!”_**  The tank ground to a halt.

His eyes grew large as he looked over to Dutch who had pulled away from her gun and she smiled at him, pointing to the screen in front of her.  He leaned over to see as she pointed to the base wall on the screen.   She raised her brows to him, “ _You’re up!  Boom boom_ time, _love_.”

Vasily felt an almost _euphoric_ sensation pass over him as he looked back at his gunner’s station, “Uh … but … _what da fuck do I do_?”

Dutch hopped up from her post and squeezed over to him, easing onto his lap and pressing buttons with insane eagerness.  They heard the cannon start to move from its location as she aimed it squarely at the base wall.

“I think … _I think_ … yup … we gotta load it first …“  Fet was flushed as there was something indescribably sexy about her manning a tank cannon while sitting on his lap.

The dhampir’s scream was right on queue, **_“The loader!  Goodweather!  Must I come back there?”_**  The last part was more of a threat than an offer.

Fet and Dutch peered over at the two Doctors who were squished together in the seat.  Dutch chirped up loudly, **_“NO!  We got this!”_**  She hit a button and a compartment slid open above Rubinstein’s head, who turned and quickly plucked one of the 120 mm bullets from it, handing it over to Ephraim as she pointed to the loading dock and he slid it into place.

A green light illuminated on the panel in front of Dutch, but she slid off of the Ukrainian’s lap as she smiled, “That’s all you, _love_.   _Right there._  You got it?”  She pointed to a button.  In all honesty, Fet would have preferred she stayed sitting on him while he pushed the button.

Quinlan screamed one last time, hearing the actions of his humans within, **_“Be mindful of the recoil!”_**

Fet’s euphoria returned as he spoke a single word before pushing the button with an undeniable childish glee, **_“Boom!”_**

 

* * *

 

The blast did not entirely take out the wall and Quinlan called back to them, **_“Another!  AGAIN!!”_**  He swore he heard Fet chuckling, but he could not be certain over all of the outside noise.  He had unlatched the controls until they would need to move again and Dawn fidgeted endlessly in his lap, preparing herself for when he would pull the mechanism back across and restrict all movement again.

The blast and the shaking of the tank was substantial as the 120 mm caliber bullet ripped out of its innards.  Both of them covered their ears in an attempt to shield from the noise, but the force of the powerful blast jolted through the entire vehicle and rubbed them fiercely against each other.

“ _Apologies_.”  He offered as he reached for the controls but was surprised as she pulled it over and locked it into place, and the panel pushed her bosom up uncomfortably, causing them both to grunt lowly.

“ _No worries_.”  She offered back to him and Quinlan grabbed the controls as the tank lurched forwards towards the debris that they had just made with the base’s wall, crawling merrily up and entirely over it, squishing strigoi as they went.

He heard Gus pull inside, locking the latch behind him, at one point as he was sure they had become covered with the beasts and he grinned as the two other machine guns, one manned and one machine driven, also started to purr.  Velders had figured them both out now.   _Well done._  He thought he might have even heard her chuckle at one point but the simultaneous firing within the metal cage was almost deafening to his sensitive ears.

He felt the cannon moving again and he heard them loading it again as they blasted the invading force behind them with the full armament of the tank, over and over again as they tore through the army, ripping the terrain up as they went.

 ** _“Ms. Velders, I will need directions!  There is–”_**  He called back and he heard the woman respond immediately.

 _“I’m on it!  There are cameras, yeah!  I see them!”_  There was a hint of amusement in her voice and Quinlan was immensely pleased by it.   _Of course_ she had already figured out the navigation mechanism as well.

He regretted chucking the original men away in such a rushed fit of domination.  It would have been helpful to have their head gear now as they were required to shout directions back and forth over the hum of the immense engine.

 ** _“There is a road to the southwest, guide me there!”_**  Quinlan plowed the massive vehicle through the mob ahead with pleasure.  If they could get to the road, they could outrun the entire assault.  The M1A2 could easily hit a top speed of 45 mph given the proper terrain.  Sitting on the base, he assumed they were fully fueled, which meant the massive machine had at most 500 gallons of fuel on board and got roughly .6 mpg.  Best case scenario, that gave them at least 300 miles of clearance and over six and a half hours of drive time.

Regardless, he needed to pick something up along the way.

 ** _“There is a Forest Route Road off of the main junction we will take a left at!”_**  He called back to her.  He would be driving, but she would need to navigate while his hatch was completely closed.

**_“GOT IT!”_ **

 

* * *

 

The country road up to the metal trailer was narrow and therefore quite bumpy, given the number of trees that they had seemed to knock over along the way.  Once they had been clear of hoard, he had popped the latch to allow for more room and a clear view of where he was driving.

They had gone a ways down the road before doubling back around towards his most recent safehold and the twilight sky had begun to show the first gray light of morning.  He had been unsure of what time it was, but this was excellent.  Traveling in the daylight hours would give them a better chance of making a clean and unfollowed getaway.

The vehicle halted a distance from the trailer and Quinlan helped his co-pilot out before he pulled himself from its confines.

Gus was already sticking his head out of his hatch, “What’s up?  Why did we stop?”

“I must retrieve something!”  He called to the concerned man as he jumped down from the tank, turning back to the woman who seemed eager to follow him and he smiled, “Wait here.  Inside please.”  He pointed to the cockpit and she frowned at him.  He waited for a moment as he could read she was considering arguing, but she eased back down into the seat with mild compliance as she furrowed her brow at him.

The bag and its contents were right where he had left them and he opened it quickly to verify nothing was missing.  The Professor’s Lumen translations, several handguns, ammunition, and two assault rifles.  Before departing completely, he pulled the hidden object from the cabinet below the wink.  A chill ran down his spine as he picked the silver briefcase up carefully.  Very few things scared _the Born_ and this object was definitely one of them.

Returning back to the tank, he tossed the bag in front of the hatch that Gus stood partly from and then handed him the case carefully.  The man gulped, taking it without question and holding it gently as if it might suddenly detonate.

“What’s that?”  Dawn questioned and Quinlan turned to find her standing partly out of the cockpit area.  He cocked his head to the right and sighed, pointing to the safety of the space, _“Fully inside, **plea** –”_

Quinlan heard a movement in the trees to the right and he pressed his fingers to his lips, pointing to the space again with vigor and she complied with another frown, easing back down inside.  He could already tell it was just a single strigoi and it was still at least half a mile away.  

_A scout._

He jumped down and moved quickly towards it.  He did not wish the _Master_ to see how they had escaped and he was assuming in the chaos of the attack, they had gotten away with completely obfuscation.  He would just need to dispatch this one before it would see or hear the tank and who was within it.

He came up behind it, only two feet away, his sword in hand but he stopped before he killed it.  Breaking a twig under his boot on purpose, the thing spun around to face him and the red eyes were nearly immediate as the _Master_ came to the forefront.

The thing began to speak at the same moment that Quinlan grinned, winking at it.

 ** _“BOR–”_** It had started to say as he wiped the blade up and the thing’s head split open before it fell to the ground with a massively satisfying thump.

He made his way back quickly, pulling the latch open before helping her up and out.  As he eased himself down inside first again, he pulled her back on top of him and closed the latch.  She eagerly looked out of the view window in the top of the hatch before sitting back down and pulling the controls across them.

Quinlan reached for the handles, but she grabbed them and the tank spun around back towards the road and eased forward, slowly at first and then quicker as she applied more pressure.  She was more gentle with the controls than he and the transition was much more pleasant.  He couldn’t help but chuckle lowly at it as he imagined what her face must have been like at that moment.  She’d definitely been watching him carefully while he drove and he loved it.

“You’ll have to brake for me, I can’t reach the pedals.”  She said with a smile.

“ _Indeed_.”  Quinlan complied with a smile as he rattled suddenly, unintentionally and uncontrollably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a LOT of time researching this chapter over the last week. I spent hour watching videos and reading about the specs on the tank before deciding to venture down into this rabbit hole. I apologize if anything is not factual. I’m including some of the more useful links I came across in case anyone wants more info on it.
> 
> M1 Abrams Research:
> 
>   * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1_Abrams#/media/File:M1a1_drivers_hole.jpg
>   * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1_Abrams#/media/File:3rd_ID_M1A1_Abrams_TC_and_Gunner_2008.jpg
>   * https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M1_Abrams#/media/File:M1_Abrams_turret_fire_above.jpg
>   * https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/transcoded/5/5e/US_Army_M1_Abrams_exercise.ogv/US_Army_M1_Abrams_exercise.ogv.480p.webm
>   * https://chivethebrigade.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/abrams-tank-920-24.jpg
>   * https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/56/aa/b4/56aab4a8b26d1020a2c3bd956af3afdd.jpg
>   * https://atomicsatchel.com/gallery3/var/albums/travmain/patton/IMG_1235.JPG?m=1385865433
>   * https://static4.businessinsider.com/image/4fbfcf0aeab8ea1f77000005/this-is-what-its-really-like-to-drive-an-m1-abrams.jpg
>   * https://www.howitworksdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/Abrams-tank.jpeg
>   * https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-aT2Bf5UhM
> 

> 
> Because of the intensity of this part, I will not be posting anything tomorrow as I didn’t have enough time to devote to it yet.
> 
> Sorry!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	101. Interlude 11 - Forsaken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with exactly how graphic to make this chapter, and in the end I decided that I needed the experience of writing something like this.
> 
> If it seems a little embarrassingly awkward … _Good_. It was supposed to. Even so, I hope its still _hot_. I look forward to your unabashedly brutal feedback.
> 
> Also, if you didn’t see this coming, then **you haven’t been paying attention.** ;)
> 
>   
> 

## Forsaken

Her family was gone.  Her tribe crushed.  Her nation scattered.

_She had been **forsaken**._

At his instruction, she went south, joining the nations that shared her language, taking a new name and hiding among them.  The culture was not hers, the beliefs were not hers, but she adapted and she attempted to thrive.   _Attempted_.

 _Hinon_ had bade her to go, asking her to thrive and she had tried.  He said he would only come when she would need him, but he came often, visiting her on her walks by the waters.  He enjoyed the running water, he would say _The Great Spirit_ was always “[stirring above them](https://frted.wordpress.com/2016/01/09/gods-spirit-hovering-over-the-waters/)” and how it often reminded him of home.  He would call it “ _simpler times_ ”.  There were not always words spoken, sometimes he would just sit at the bank and show her how to skip stones across its surface.

She lived amongst these different people and after years, a _good man_ was allowed to take her as a wife.  He had asked permission by the clan and she experienced some amount of happiness for the few years that followed that but when there would be no children, he had asked for divorce from the elders.

Though women were highly regarded with them, she was not of their blood and reminded of this often.  She had nothing to offer _him_ at this point and rather than place her burden on the others, the clan instead allowed him to take _another wife_.  She had no familial ties to give him and because of her perceived infertility, this was granted.  In all honestly, she would have just preferred to be _free_ of him.

_This.  This was a punishment._

In contemplation of it all, _Hathų_ sat calmly at the river bank, with her knees pulled firmly to her chest, her arms wrapped securely around her legs as she waited.  She had been expected to attend the marriage ceremony, but she did not.  She always knew when _Her Thunder_ approached as the world around her would change ever so very slightly as the breeze would brush over and nature would come to life, billowing and bristling with life.

“I can read your sadness a mile away.”  She heard his deep voice from behind her and yet she did not turn to greet him as she always had.  She may have been sad, but his presence made her smile and she hid it deep within her buried face.  He lowered himself silently onto the ground next to her, staring across the running water before them.

She thought about waiting for him to speak, but she knew she would lose that game.  The last time she had tried, he never uttered a word the entire time.  “I have not seen you for _months_.”  She spoke.

“Yes, there were … _troubles_ … I needed to address them.   _Forgive my tardiness._ ”

Finally turning to him, she perused at his current form.  Over the years, he always seemed to look different, but she preferred how he had looked the day he came forth from the water to save her from those men.  As she understood it, that was his most _unaltered_ state.  He had been almost _glowing_ , with inhumanly beautiful features.  No matter what, he always had the scar.  Most of all, from his original state, she missed his spots the most.

Today, he simply looked like an older man, even donning human clothing and she laughed, “Where have you been?”

He sighed heavily before shrugging, “ _Very far_ from here.”

“Did you accomplish whatever it was that you went for?”

“ _I always do._ ”  He said solemnly, “ _But_ , it doesn’t matter anymore.  It is done.  What causes you to be in such a state today?”

Did he not already know?  Over the years, she was learning that he was not as _all knowing_ as they had always assumed the gods were.

“I have failed to provide what was expected of me.”  She huffed into her knees, “My husband will take another wife now.”  She said as plainly as she could.  She had moved beyond tears weeks ago and there was no reason to let them plague her again over this.

His mouth dropped agape as he stared at her, “I have told you … the problem does _not_ lie with you.”

“And yet you said the problem does not lie with _him_ either.”

“I do not understand what the problem is.   _I am sorry._ ”  His words were defeated and his eyes pulled away from hers as he fished for a rock to throw from the sand around them.  “He was not good for you anyways.”  He grumbled lowly.

“You have _never_ liked him.”  He shrugged at this.  He never had.  He had suggested against the marriage, but there were none other that would have even considered her.

She waited a moment before asking him again for the thing that she had asked from him many times already, “Can you not just ask the _Spirit_?  Can you not just–”

“If it has not happened, then the Spirit does not wish it.”  His default excuse for everything, it seemed, and her anger ignited at its uselessness.

“Can you _ask why_?   _Can you just ask what I must do?_ ”

“Please, don’t be angry with me.  This is not within my power.”

“You tell me I must survive and then you deny me … _you always deny me_.”  She pulled her face into her knees again, shielding him from seeing her face, from perceiving her growing anger.

When he gazed upon her again he sighed heavily.  He was considering something of great weight when he finally spoke again, in almost a whisper, “ _I cannot ask … because … I do not speak with the Spirit anymore._ ”

She looked up at him, trying to digest this unbelievable … _confession_?

“What do you mean?”

“I … _no one does_.  No one speaks to the Spirit anymore.  Rather, it speaks to no one anymore … well, except _you_ , precious one.”

“What are you saying?!  What does that mean?”  Her brows furrowed and she turned to face him, dropping her knees as she spun her body in the sand.  The shame of the confession covered his entire face.  She wished to speak again, to demand answers, but she thought carefully first.  He had always come and asked about _her dreams_.  They talked them through and she thought it was because he was providing her clarity, because he was offering her direction, because he was helping _her_ to understand …

In a sudden flashing and agonizing moment she realized that it was not him that was providing guidance, _but her_ …

_How could this be?_

“Why did you not tell me this?”

“It is not something that should be known by–”

“Mortals?”  She questioned immediately.

“ _Man_.”  He finished and he looked at her with wide eyes, searching for her forgiveness.

“Why tell me then?”  Why was she not angrier?  She had somehow known there was something off.

“Because, you are _not_ just simply **_that_** , _Hathų_.”

“How long has there been silence?”

He finally skipped the rock with which he had been fiddling across the surface of the water before answering her, “ _Nearing two thousand years now._ ”

She had no words for this as she had a hard time even trying to fathom that amount of time.  Finally, she struggled with another question, “ _Why_?  Why would it just abandon _us_ like this?”

He smiled at her questions.  Was this a smiling matter?!  But, as he spoke, she understood the grin, “Has it?  Has it _really_ abandoned us?   ** _You_** are proof that it has not, don’t you see?”

The breeze was sharp and penetrating, causing her to pull herself tight into a ball again and he moved closer, placing his arm around her to provide and share his _incredibly seductive_ heat. 

“Then why did he forsake **_you_**?  Did you do something?”  Her question was direct and clear.   _Why?_

 _Hinon_ considered again before speaking, “It was not I nor my brethren’s fault.  We have been _obedient_.  But _Man_ … _Man_ was given a great gift, the most precious of all gifts.  A prophet of unimaginable power … A prophet of prophets and they … **_rejected_** him.”

She blinked, “ _Who?  Who_ would do this?”

“ _Selfish men.  Powerful men.  Greedy men._  It is … _a great sadness_.”

“And so we are _all_ punished because of it?”  She questioned and he shrugged, smiling as he did so.

“At first, I did feel _forsaken._   At first, I felt _lost_.  But then I realized … is it a punishment?  Is _freedom_ really a punishment?”

“I do not know.  Look at the pain … look at the suffering that has befallen my people–”

“The cost of _freedom_ has always been high, _precious child_.”  She detested when he called her a _child_.  She was now past the middle point of her life after all.

She looked out across the water and she was at a loss of what to ask next, but he continued, “We thought that it had _completely abandoned_ us.  We thought we were alone, until another gift was given and a child was born.  Not as the first, but _special_ just the same.”

She nodded, “Deganawida.”

He smiled at her intuition, “There had not been a single prophet since the _great sadness_ and there had been no word … no sign … no glimmer of hope, until him and now … you.”

“I thought you brought his mother the child …”  She mused.  Obviously he was far from as powerful as she had even assumed.  He had been a good bluffer all of these years, at least.

“I cannot create _life_ in this world.   _No_.  I can heal it, but I cannot _create_ it.”  He seemed disappointed by this fact, saddened by it.

Was this true though?  There was something fundamentally flawed in his expression of those words and she could read it.  It was not _entirely_ true.

Defeated again, she buried her head into the side of his chest, “So, you _really_ cannot help me.”

“I _would_ if I could.  You are the only thing of value that is left in this wretched world.”  His voice trailed off in his own defeat.  They shared a quiet moment of shared collapse together before she questioned more.

“Can **Deganawida** not help you as I do?”

“His spirit thrives, but only those who sleep _dream_.  And only those who live _sleep_.”

“But … Do **_you_** not live?”  He had already disclosed to her that he did not sleep.  Ever.

He smiled warmly at her detection of fault, “If you had asked me six years ago, I would have faltered on that statement.  I feel like I _live_ now.”

“ _Freedom_.”  She stated and she felt him nod briefly.

Something suddenly awoke within him and he tried to pull away from her, his voice quivering in reluctant ecstasy, “I have … I have stayed here _too long_ … I must return.”  He never stayed long any more and she could feel the discomfort the prolonged visits had on him.

“Do you not have the _freedom_ to stay?”  She questioned, not allowing his arm to fully come away from her yet.

“It’s not that.  It’s _difficult here … for me_.”  He was flustered with the question, “I am _sorry_.  I just came to ask of your _dreams_.  Have you had any?”  She looked at him and as always, she found his gaze had the power to nearly crush all manner of defiance from her … _nearly_.  She often melted at his eyes, mostly a rich green, while the outside border a dark teal to it, and tiny, almost unnoticeable flecks of amber danced around inside, close to the center.

He wished to know of her dreams, but she actually kept the majority of them _from him_.  She would tell him the ones that she _knew_ he would consider useful, and she would keep the other ones to herself.  Those most shameful fantasies of lust and domestic notions of _him, her Thunder,_ coming home to her as she would rub his shoulders and he would _love_ _her_.  These were not from _the Great Spirit_ … she assumed.  These were her own damnable private desires.

_Right?_

> _You let your feet run wild_
> 
> _Time has come as we all oh, go down_
> 
> _Yeah but for the fall oh, my_
> 
> _Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?  
>  _
> 
> _‘Cause they will run you down, down til the dark  
>  _
> 
> _Yes and they will run you down, down til you fall_

 

##  **_Freedom …_ **

The wind stung again, piercing through the seams of the sewn pieces of her leather clothing.  He reacted the same way as he had done before, placing his arm around her to provide her with his unyielding warmth.

She delayed in telling him: _no, there were no more dreams._  Instead, she nuzzled into his side, absorbing the glow of his spirit.  She felt his arm clasp her _tighter_ and she looked up into his face, spinning her body underneath to face him.

The smallest of smiles graced her dark face before she bit into her lower lip gently, all while he stared down calmly upon her visage.  He was shifting slightly, abruptly afraid of being _this_ close to her as his growing concern over her strange expression sprang forth when she raised up to his face.

##  _**Freedom to live …** _

His hands came up, attempting weakly yet ultimately failing to guard himself from her by clutching both forearms.  He was going to halt her … to subdue her … to stop her?  But he did not even attempt to place any effort behind the hold as she closed her eyes tightly and followed through, her voluminous lips pressing against his thin ones as she felt him shudder beneath her.

She had yearned for this for so long … His incredible heat … to taste him and she calmed her furious heart as she took what she had dreamed of _so many times_ … for _so many years_.

_Her Thunder._

The kiss was not returned, but he made no further movement to prevent her at all as his hands now just rested on her arms.  There was an agonizing moment of silence while neither of them moved in the others touch and eventually, she forced her eyes open, pressing her forehead against his and then rubbing her nose across his before she kissed it lightly and he seemed to shudder again.

##  _**Freedom to want …** _

He had changed and she noticed _immediately_.  While her eyes had been shut, he had become _different_.  His clothes were obviously the same but his skin, face, and body were not.  He looked as he did when he had come from the lake in a rush that day six years ago.  His cheekbones were pronounced sharply, his skin spotted, his eyes deeply set, and his hair a golden mess.  There was only one difference from that day; _his scar_ was completely gone.  He had _lost all_ _control_ of his appearance and as he opened his mouth to speak, she spied the white and pronounced fangs within it.

Fearing what words he might speak and rather than allow that, she kissed him again, this time keeping her curious eyes open and he watched her, motionless again until she tried to pull back and this time he prevented her from retreating, gliding his hands from her arms to her back as he pulled her forward and she mounted his lap fully without hesitation.

He tried to return her gesture, but his attempt was sloppy and juvenile as he looked down at her wet mouth afterwards, furrowing his brows.  He was displeased with himself, yet she was not and she smiled anyways.

“I … _should return … Hathų …_ ”  He struggled to mutter as he nuzzled back against her nose, closing his eyes as tightly as he could.  His internal conflict raging clearly, but his hands slid down her back, gripping her hips and simply watching in silent awe as she pulled the leather up around her waist, exposing herself fully to him underneath.

##  _**Freedom to choose …** _

“I … have … _never_ …”  He breathed in nearly a whisper but his words lost all form as she quickly tugged at the laces of his pants, ripping them free as she reached within to pull him free of his own leather confines and the touch of her hand against his soft skin caused him to suddenly gasp and tighten under her eager strokes.  His utter shock was undeniable.

“ _Oh!_ … _That has never_ …”  His eyes wide with near confusion at it’s sensitivity and growing hardness.  Her own eyes widening as she took it fully in her grip.  It was … _impressive_.  She was not sure what she had been expecting, but it was more than whatever had played through her mind _so many times_ in _so many of those dreams._

He made no protest as she pulled it free completely and he leaned back onto his elbows to give himself the best view possible, lifting her leather up and holding it out of his way.  He beheld the sight with complete silence as she adjusted herself on top of him, his face full of pure bewilderment and his mouth slightly agape with sweet anticipation.

_**Her** Thunder._

Shivering slightly as he continued to watch, he remained perfectly still, allowing her complete control as she rubbed his delicate head through her hair, across and between her feminine lips twice before positioning it at her opening.  She had wanted this for _so long_ , so _very very long_ and her body sang with such lust over the thought of it, she knew it would glide in easily.

She watched his face carefully as she released her body to gravity’s force, sliding slowly and without hesitation over his impressiveness.  She could not help but smile as his jaw dropped fully open, gaping at both the sight and the sensation of it.

##  _**Freedom to feel …** _

Once he was far inside of her as she could manage, he looked back up to her pleased face, his mouth still agape as he seemed unsure of what to do next.  Shifting his eyes back down from her face, he watched again as she brought her body up, pulling herself from of him halfway before she slowly eased down again, grinding into him slightly at the end of it as she tried to push his length in further and he released her leather as he came back up, off of his elbows, to meet her face to face, gripping her hips tightly in his palms.  His face was a perfect combination of torment, need, horror, and absolute pleasure and she ran her fingers up through the back of his silky hair.

“Wait … _WAIT_ … Stop.   _Don’t_ –”  He breathlessly begged but she ignored his plea as she repeated the motion one more time, working against his hands which pushed furiously down on her thighs, frantic to prevent her from causing the friction again.  “ _No NO! **STOP MOVI** –_”

But it was too late and the god heaved forward violently as he buried his face into the leather which covered her chest, pushing forcefully down on her hips with his hands as he actually finally _moved_ on his own, thrusting into her as far as he could from beneath.  His body convulsed while he tried to push deeper, filling her up entirely as she felt him tensing and pulsing around her lips suddenly.

##  _**Freedom to love …** _

His strength was substantial, almost too much, as she felt like he might break her in two with his merciless upward pushes.  She could not hold in the small cry that escaped from her and sounded in perfect concert with his low guttural grunts.

_Her … **Thunder**?_

_Wait … Did he just?  Was that … was that **it**? _  But it was not, at least not **_nearly_** it, and she continued to feel him throbbing inside her as he attempted to nudge deeper still, seemingly desperate to get as far as possible as he finished filling her.

“I … “  He panted as he finally came to conclusion, beginning to retreat from her and she looked into his shocked eyes, “ _I’m sorry_ … I …”  His panic was obvious as he pulled himself out of her, scrambling away from her body as he rose, reaching for his staff.  His face flush as he stammered “I’m .. I’m _so sorry_. _I shouldn’t have … I …_ ”

She attempted to stand, to speak, to apologize for his embarrassment … but he was already gone and the wind blew fiercely against her again as she stood, alone and unsatisfied and that invisible force smiled to itself.

##  _**And the freedom to fall.**_  


	102. 15.1 - Beauty

> _So imma keep deep diving_
> 
> _Just to see where you hidin’_
> 
> _And if you aren’t in the sea_
> 
> _I just wait until I dream_
> 
> _To see if i can find you…_

##  **Part 1**

It was moderately cool before the sun came up, but once the penetrating rays hit the metal, the inside of the driver’s compartment had started to heat up quite a bit.  Quinlan’s own warmth was only adding to her discomfort and the sweat beaded up and trailed down her spotted forehead.  She had peeled his vest and jacket off but it did not ease the rising humidity levels.  Quinlan found himself increasingly distracted by it all.

He eventually relented to opening the hatch for air, but was uncomfortable with anyone sitting on the outside while they bounded along the side of the highway, tearing up the terrain in their tremendous wake.  The strigoi might not be a problem during the daylight hours, but as they had _just_ learned, in this world, it was not just the minions that they needed to be concerned with anymore.

They had driven down the highway until the blockage of cars had been too compact to drive around.  This particular traffic jam went for miles and miles it seemed.  Whatever had happened, it had been quick and _brutal_ as nearly every vehicle was splattered with blood, usually from the inside out.

The noise of the tank’s engine had made it difficult to hear _or_ speak, but he tried regardless, allowing her to steer as he broke on her request.  They had ridden in almost complete silence for an hour now and he went over the various ways on how to breach the subject in his mind, playing out the responses, wishing to avoid as much _embarrassment_ as possible.

“May we speak candidly?”  He eventually mustered the courage to start.

“About what?”  She returned.   _Alright_.  So far so good.  He gulped briefly, not really grasping why he should be so nervous about speaking with her.  They’d spoken many times, about many things … _Right_?

“I have had a number of dreams lately.”   _Good, Quintus.  Good.  Right to the point.  Let us just get it out in the open and then we can discuss–_

“ _Oh yeah_?  What about?”  He _knew_ he felt her heart rate jump suddenly.  He _knew_ he felt her wince at the mention of it.  Though it was hard to read her emotions without seeing her face or even being allowed to witness some amount of body language.  Being crammed into this tiny space made both of those nearly impossible.

Quinlan immediately doubted his own sanity on the subject.  Was she being … _coy_ or did she honestly _not know_?  The former was likely, she was a shy person.  The latter, given her immediate tensing when he mentioned it was _highly unlikely_.

“ _You_ and _I_.”  He pushed the subject along carefully as it was obvious the mere mention of it had put her comfort on edge.

_“Oh?”_  She was not making this easy.  “What were we doing?”  He considered just calling her out on the lie, but he maintained the _game_ for now.   _She was as nervous as he was_ , it seemed.

“Sometimes _training_.”  He liked those dreams and he smiled at their remembrance.  They always started with training, that is, usually some type of grappling lesson … he digressed though, “Sometimes … _other scenarios_.”

“I’m sorry.”  That was put rather frankly.  The defeat that laced her voice was clear.

“Why should _you_ be sorry?”

She made an effort to shrug, but gave up as her movement was mostly hindered, “I _forced_ you to train me and then you had nightmares about it later.  That was shitty of me and I’m _sorry_.”

Rejecting her apology immediate, he sneered, “You have never _forced_ me to do anything.   _ **No one** can force me to do **anything**._ ”  The last part wasn’t necessarily true anymore, was it?  Regardless, he had been cruel and callous to her about many things back at the house and he expected her confidence surrounding him and most things associated with it to be _damaged_.  He knew he had fucked up, quite a bit.  “And I never said _nightmare_.  There was never anything _terrible_ about these dreams.”

“Ok.”  Her uncertainty was almost painful for him to hear.  She doubted nearly everything from his lips right now.

_Hmmm_ … He began to also doubt suddenly.  Perhaps just the _last_ ***gulp*** _dream_ was shared then?

“Did _you_ dream while you slept during those weeks?”

“I …”  He felt her consider her words and then he heard her lie, “I didn’t.”  Treachery was something he was so very good at detecting and he sighed, bringing his head forward and resting his chin calmly on her shoulder.

“Please do not be ashamed.”  If _anyone_ should be bashful about this subject, it should be him.  In these dreams, he was _always_ the one who had instigated … _Always_.  Wait, was _that_ true?  

However, a curious thought came over him as he remembered the very first time he had dreamed vividly about her.  After he had crushed her heart on that last regrettable night in the house before everything went to shit.  When he had dreamed that she crept downstairs to him … and she had offered him **_intimacy_**.

_Focus, Quintus._

“Why would _I_ be ashamed of _your dreams_?”  Now he seemed to be making her defensive.  Why was he suddenly so terrible at controlling and navigating a simple conversation?

_Enough_.  “Because I believe they were shared.”  The last one, at the very least, which meant the Latin one as well, because of her knowledge of that word and compliance with his … erm … _language lesson_.

“Like shared dreaming?  That’s crazy talk, _Mister_ –”

“It is _not_ crazy.  You know–”  He interrupted her use of that damned name.  And why was she lying to him?!

“That’s _CrAzY_.”  She interrupted him back and he cringed as he hated when she put such strange emphasis on that word.

“So, you think me _CrAzY_ then?”  He accused suddenly, mimicking her gracefully, “Or do you wish me to _think_ that I am _CrAzY_?”  The last sentence was a strange one.  He would have phrased it a bit differently if he had a chance to think before plowing into that sentence.

“People don’t _share_ dreams … that’s _not_ possible.”

“I am _not_ people and neither are _you_.”  This seemed to catch her off guard and silence melted over the discussion.  He was not sure where to go from here.  If she would not admit it, then they could not discuss it.  His own self confidence waned a bit as he wondered why she felt she had to lie.  Was she that _ashamed_ of it?  Was she that _disappointed_ in herself?  In _him_?  Or was it the _affection_?

“I will drop the subject.  We will not discuss it again until you wish.”  He offered her surrender and he was surprised when she spoke again.

“Why am I not _people_?”  It was a whisper and he would not have even heard it over the engines save for his heightened senses.  “What did you do to me?”

“I did not **_do_** anything to you.   I believe I **_undid_** something.”

“What does that mean?”  She tapped on his leg and he brought the machine to a slow halt.  Pushing the controls out of their way, she pulled her arm back, showing her wrist to him, “It’s gone.  Did you do this?”

“ _Yes_.”  There had not been time to speak of this until now.

“What does that mean?”  She prodded.

“I do not know.”  His answer was utterly useless but honest and she looked more defeated now than he had ever seen her, “But I do know that you will not break anymore.  It was put there to _diminish_ you.”

“Diminish what from me?”  This was not the place to discuss _things of this sort_.

“ _Power_.”

“Who put it there?”

“I know not.”

“ _What did you do to me?_ ”  She asked again staring off into nothing in particular and he gripped her wrist gently, covering the spot that once sported her mark.

“You were dying.  I had …”  He stuttered, “ _I had killed you_.  It was _necessary_.”

“And this is why I’m not _people_ anymore?”

“I did not do _that_.  Do you not understand?”  She was unpleased by his answers, but he continued, “You have _never_ been people.  You know you have always been–”

“ _Different_.”  Her tone was obviously negative. _Bizarre.  Strange.  Unusual._

“ ** _Unique_**.”  He corrected.   _Exalted.  Special.  Rare._

“Did you know that?”

He cocked his head to the right as far as he could, “Know what?”

“That I was _peculiar_?  Is _that_ why you saved me?”

“I was not going to let them _hurt_ you again–”

“No, I mean the first time.  At the factory.  Is that why you didn’t let me die?  Did you know?”  Quinlan blinked, pondering the question and why it might be of importance to her.

“I did not know you were like _this_.  No.   _This_ was not why I **_took_** you.”  He regretted the phrasing immediately, however correct it had been.  He had _taken_ her, hadn’t he.  He had _taken_ her and he had _never_ given her back.

She made no effort to respond and he thought back to that day again, “You _were_ extraordinary to me even then, but not in _this_ sense.  It was more.”  Why was this _so difficult_ for him to express verbally?

Should he tell her of the dragonfly?  Though it had affected him, it was far from the root reason.  But, was there even a root cause of any of it?  He had been struck by her ferocity, by her ingenuity, by her softness, by her kindness, by _her_ … He could go on, but it was not any _one specific thing_ and he rolled his head in frustration of it all as he usually had no trouble with words nor being succinct and direct in their execution.   _Ever_.  His mind swam with _reasons_ , with _curiosities_ … with **_beauties_**.

She had not spoken so he would try again, “It is not often that I meet someone with such fortitude of will that it causes me pause .. and _you_ … “ He felt himself flushed from the mere thought of a confession and he was instantly thankful his blood was not red, or it would have been easy to see the color through his pale cheeks as the heat accumulated on them and his heart pounded savagely from within his chest.  “It is even rarer that I have ever required the help of _anyone. **You … You** saved my life_ … with no motive for doing so.”

“You said that was a _flaw_.  You lectu–”

“I was _cruel_ with my words … _you **terrified** me_.”  He had been harsh with all of his words.  He would never make that mistake again.

She turned to face him fully now, and their faces were mere inches apart as she stared into his eyes with pure disbelief, scoffing, “ _I don’t think you are even capable of being scared, Mister Quinlan_.”  She shook her head slightly before cocking it to the left and staring back blankly to the control console.

“I am capable of _all emotions_ , though fear is a _rare_ thing for me, _indeed_.”  He confessed to her frankly, baring a piece of his soul he’d refused to even see himself, “And … _you **terrify** me still _ … but for _different_ reasons now.”  His words caused her to shift uncomfortably atop him and he he reached up to her jaw, turning her face back to him as he stared down at her lips directly.  He sensed her notice his gaze as her heart rate jumped lightly.  His was still beating far _faster_.

“Because of _what I am now_?”

“No …”  He swallowed deeply, “ … because of how _you see me_.”  He still gripped her wrist and he pulled her hand to his chest, placing it palm down over the source of his raging pulse as he placed his palm over hers, “Because of how _you’ve awoken me_.”

This was no dream, there would be no _waking_ … no _teasing_ … no _tormenting_ and he leaned in slowly as her heart rate bumped up again, brushing the tip of his nose across hers softly.  Sweat glistened on her body and he gazed at the beads that had begun to form on her upper lip as he spoke again, breathing on her.  Even if she had wanted to retreat from this, from him, there was nowhere to go.  But it mattered not as she made no effort to want to leave, to pull away.  She spoke no words, simply listening to his admission, _needing it,_ letting it wash her self doubt away.

“Because of how much **_I need you._** ”  He crushed her hand against his chest harder as he leaned his mouth forwards and his body sang with electricity over the intensity of the moment.  This was _not_ a dream, there would be nothing to stop–

“ _HEY_!  WHY DID WE STOP!?”  Gus called out from above as he scrambled out of his hatch and Dawn jerked quickly away from him, pulling her hand always from his chest as she spun back around to face front.  The Boxer looked down into the hatch from above, “Everything ok?”

“Yes, Mr. Elizalde.   _Everything_ is fine.  We were just taking a break.”  Quinlan could not mask the annoyance in his voice.

Dawn pulled the controls back across them, locking them into place and Gus nodded, “Sorry, it’s just … everyone is hot and tired.  Do we know where we’re goin’ yet?”

“We will discuss it when we get to a junction.”  Quinlan sighed and the man went back into the bowels of the beast.

_Humans_.

 

* * *

 

Their progress was cut short suddenly as their path along the side of road abruptly hit a massive but dry river.  Dawn looked up through the hatch and mumbled something particularly _vulgar_ before he pulled her back down onto his lap and asked her permission to take the controls.  He was actually surprised at her willing compliance.

“Go for it.”

“ _Perhaps I will._ ”  Quinlan was not sure where that came from but it was accompanied by a dirty thought, a twitch, and a rattle.  He was sure the heat was getting to him.  Perhaps.

She turned back to him at the twitch riddled rattle, as it happened just as she was sliding her body back down into position again.  “Are you ok?  Am I _crushing you_?!”  She suddenly worried at his noise and he chuckled lowly at it.

“No, do _not_ worry.   You are not _crushing_ me.”  No matter how much he might wish it, but he held in the next rattle before it escaped.

_Focus, Quintus.  Drive the tank._

The heat in the compartment was stifling and he took the controls from her as he moved the beast of a machine back onto the road.

“The cars.”  She reminded him, thinking they would need to retreat and find another way across.

“ _Indeed_.  They are quite small, aren’t they?”  Quinlan smiled and she gasped mildly as he drove over the first, crushing it completely underneath their 62 metric tons, squashing it nearly flat and he chuckled deeply.

“What if there are people in them!?”  She called back to him through the violent noise, entirely shocked at his seemingly uncaring action.

“I doubt it.  It would be a bad place to hide regardless.”  He was momentarily distracted as he turned to see the side of her face while he spoke, staring at the sweat that ran down the side of it.  He wondered how salty it likely was.

“You love this, don’t you?”

He could not help but smile at the action as well as her words, and he asked a similar question in return, “Do you not as well?”  He wasn’t sure how she would respond, but he knew how he wished her to respond and her giggle was confirmation enough.

_Indeed.  Mmmmm._

Going _over_ the cars was not exactly smooth and though he took the action very _slowly_ , at one point, he heard Gus stick his head from his hatch within the belly of the beast to see what was causing the commotion.

“ _What da fuck is – **Holy shit**._ ”  And then he pulled back into the vehicle, shutting his hatch and Quinlan chuckled.  He was actually quite worried about the bridge handling their weight, but he was hoping the fact that it was constructed to withstand four lanes of heavy traffic, they might be alright.  Once they were on the bridge fully, he stopped and listened for any creaking.

“ _Problem_?”  She asked again.

“Apparently not.”  He merrily continued, crushing cars in their wake.  As he gained confidence, he increased speed and the turbulence in the vehicle increased substantially.

“ ** _Ooooof_**.”  He heard from her again.  This had apparently become her favorite saying of the day so far, but he continued and so did the jostling.  Their bodies slammed together as he mounted and subsequently crushed each vehicle in their way.  The noise was loud, but he realized he was enjoying it all quite a bit, until he realized he might have been enjoying it _too much, maybe?_

He calculated they were roughly 75% the way across the bridge and the treads ripped mercilessly into a larger SUV and her body bumped up and down upon him, nearly head butting him from behind.  Attempting to prevent it from occurring again, he felt as she tried to lean forward, clenching her core, shifting the bumping force onto her hips and consequently her butt, as it centered her bounce up and down directly on his lap.

_Hmmmmm_.

After they had mounted the vehicle fully and it started to buckle under their weight, she helt her pose, flexing her abs tightly to keep her head and shoulders from him as much as possible, and her butt now rubbed against him with an intriguing friction.  Then they mounted the next car and she bounced again.

_Quintus!  Good god, FOCUS! **You are driving a tank!**_

He knew he _grunted_.  He heard himself _grunt_ , more than once in fact, but chances were good she might not have heard over the noise.  She still rubbed against him as they crushed the next car and his hands immediately flew to her hips first, sliding under them as he gripped her cheeks, too firmly he realized as she squeaked at it, lifting her up as far as possible from his lap a mere instant before he felt himself beginning to harden under her.

_Oh good god._

It was now that he felt the tank lurch suddenly and violently forward and to the right as it crashed into the sidewall of the bridge.

_DAMNATION!_

He jammed the brakes down immediately to prevent them from plowing through the concrete wall fully into the dry river below and everything torrentuously flew to a halt suddenly, throwing her to the side as her head hit the hard metal.

_“Holy shit, Quinlan!”_  She muttered in confusion, grabbing her head.   _“What the fuck was **that**?”_

He heard the humans in the center cursing as well.  The force of the abrupt stop had flung everyone in an uncomfortable way.

He still held her above him as he struggled with himself momentarily, closing his eyes and trying desperately to force control over the situation.

“I’m crushing you!”  She wrongly assessed.  She was assuming that she had crushed his privates in some way, he was sure, _“I knew it!”_

“You are–”  Quinlan considered the following statement carefully.  He could tell _the truth_ , and deal with the embarrassment and, ultimate rejection, or … “ ** _Yes_**.  Just a bit.   _Forgive me_.”

“You could have just told me. _I’m so sorry._ ”

She pulled herself up and out of the hatch and he remained a moment, pushing himself down and adjusting the solid item in his pants to a more _modest_ and obfuscated position before chastising it harshly

“ _What is wrong with you?_ ”  He looked down with pure disgust and questioned out loud before pulling himself up and out of the cockpit to join her outside.

“What is wrong with _me_?”  Dawn looked perturbed by his frustration and he blinked at her, wondering how she had heard him.

“No, not you.  _Sorry_.”  He stated as he heard the other hatches begin to open.  He turned to the confused people as they stared at the damaged bridge and the edge of the tank that loomed over it by at least five feet.  It was not enough to worry about, he could reverse and it would be fine, he was sure.  It was not a big deal.

“What is–”

     “Is everything–”

         “What happened–”

              “Who was driving–”

Four voices started to worry out loud and in perfect unison as he halted them succinctly, _“It is **FINE**.  We are **FINE**.  Please return inside.  It will be **FINE**.”_

“But …” Dutch stuttered from her hatch as she looked at him, seeming nervous to continue.

“Yes?”  He prodded her but she seemed reluctant at first, “Please, _what is it now?_ ”  He was already frustrated with himself enough as it was.

“I … _I have to pee_.”  She confessed and Quinlan brought his hand to his forehead.

“And I’m thirsty.”  The Ukrainian stated.

“I’m kinda hungry too.”  The Boxer followed up.

_Gah.  Children._


	103. Fan Art - 9

[aquatintaaqua](https://aquatintaaqua.tumblr.com/):

> > Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I just wanted to share my fanart. This is how I imagined Dawn from your amazing fanfiction. <3
>> 
>> For the first time fanfiction inspired me to draw something. Also it has been a long time since I last drew a human, so it’s not very good. ^_^’ 
>> 
>>  
> 
> ##  **This is fantastic!  I love it!!!**
> 
> ##  **┏(＾0＾)┛┗(＾0＾) ┓**
> 
> ##  **Also, please never worry about bothering me ever!**


	104. 15.2 - Beauty

It was only another three miles of road past the bridge before they happened upon the deserted gas station.  Quinlan was eager to hush the _whiney_ _humans_ in the back and she had relinquished controls to him so he could drive at full speed after the bridge.

There was a tension in the air now that was almost palpable and neither had spoken a single word since he had plowed through the wall.  He had seemed distant from her since he had placed her hand on his chest and Gus had happened upon the _unfortunate_ scene.  She was shocked that the Boxer had been able to sneak up on Quinlan at all, but he had been distracted apparently.

> 
>     “Was he about to kiss you?!”
>     

 

She had seen the the native woman standing curiously behind Gus as he stared down into the hatch, smiling as she placed her hand over her mouth after her words, in silent shock. She hadn’t gone away yet, and she seemed to be hanging out on top of the tank now.  Dawn tried to ignore her completely as questioned her sanity yet again and for the first time in months.  She had refused to answer her.  Not while everyone was around at least, not while … _he_ was around.  But now she pondered the question, mulled it over in her mind.

> “He was _totally_ gonna kiss us.”
> 
> “I don’t think so.”
> 
> “Whatever.  You were there … you saw that look in his eyes.  He was totally leaning in to kiss us.”

Was he really?  No.   _No_.  She told herself.  He was very adamant about finding the thought of kissing her to be … What’s a good Quinlan word?   _Disagreeable_?  Yes.   ** _Disagreeable_**.

> “What about the dreams?”
> 
> “What about them?”
> 
> “He kissed us there.”
> 
> “It was a dream.  It wasn’t real.  And … shared dreams?   _Please_.”
> 
> “Oh?  Is that as absurd as a strange invisible woman following us around?”
> 
> “No … _No its not_.  But that’s just _CrAzY_.”
> 
> “She knew where the tank was!!!”
> 
> “I… We … “  There was nothing.  She was losing this argument.  She was losing more than just _this_ argument though.  Her grasp of whatever she thought was reality seemed to be slipping away from her.  She was terrified of what might replace it.  _She felt adrift._  
> 
> 
> “We _lied_ to him.”
> 
> “No we didn’t, we don’t know … We don’t–”
> 
> “You are just _afraid_.”

Quinlan stopped the vehicle and shook her from her conversation as she pulled her sweaty body from the hatch.   _Oh god_ , the fresh air was amazing.  She was sure she was the only one that was generating the _stink_ from the heat and it was _ripe_ in that space.  She could only image what Quinlan was smelling and she frowned massively at just the thought of it.  _How embarrassing._  


She stood next to him for a moment, staring down at the ground below.  It was quite a jump, but _sure, why not?_ He said she wasn’t breakable anymore … She began to squat to take the leap when the dhampir chuckled at her hesitation.

“Here.”  He grabbed her wrists, pulling her up off of her feet and lowering her inches from the ground before dropping her carefully.

“I could have jumped … it wasn’t that far.”  She offered back to him as he stepped off and landed securely onto the pavement below his feet.

“But you don’t have to … however …”  He walked passed as he bumped her shoulder playfully with his, “Next time, if you prefer, I can simply carry you.”

Dawn blushed massively towards his back as he walked confidently into the store before them.  Turning around to see everyone else jumping clear, she spied the dark skinned woman smiling widely from her spot between Dawn and the tank.

> 
>     “ _I **really** like him!_ ”  The native woman said as she nodded approvingly.

That’s _great_.  Just _great_.

  


* * *

  


They all waited outside the store until the dhampir reemerged a minute later and waved them in.

“It is clear.   _Have at it._ ”   _Children_.  They clamored towards the door, Dutch leading the charge as she leapt with agonizing glee towards the bathroom.

The store itself was ransacked but still filled with useful human things.  Food, water, tools and this actually made Quinlan a bit nervous.  They were very far from the city and this meant there were good things _and_ bad things.

It had likely been deserted for a number of weeks and the abundance of supplies meant they were easily still in strigoi run territory.  This was good during the day and at the very least, it eased some amount of concern that he had.  This was bad because the _Master_ ’s stretch had reached very far indeed.

He stepped closer to the short woman as she brought up the rear of the group and sneakily slippd her an orange wrapped rectangular object that he had spied in his primary assessment of the building’s safety.  It was the only one left of its kind and he knew Dutch had similar tastes for _peanut butter_.  He did not know if she liked it in ‘cup’ form though, whatever that meant.  He passed it to her with one hand while he put his finger to his lips with the other.  The smile on her face was well worth his thieving efforts as she quickly stuffed the object into her pocket.

“ _Thanks_.”  She giggled greedily.

“ _It is payment._  I require your help with something … _delicate_.”  Dawn furrowed her brows at him inquisitively as he lead the way into the building.  It didn’t take him long to find the things he needed and she followed, watching curiously as he collected an X-ACTO knife, a pair of pliers and … he considered a stapler first, but picked up a roll of the silver tape before looking back to her for confirmation as she giggled again.

_Hehehe_.

He lead her into the back room, setting the tools on the desk and then pulling his coat off before he then took off his undershirt shirt.  He hadn’t bothered putting the jacket or vest back on since she had peeled it off; they were still wadded up in a ball in the tank.  Without a word, he grinned faintly as he saw her blush terribly towards his bare chest before she quickly spun, trying to afford him modesty.  He sat on the desk, instructing her to his back.

As she approached, he picked up the knife and tried to hand it to her, “ _Please_.  Can you remove the bullet.”  It had occurred when he had shielded her on top of the tank and it was getting uncomfortable as his body had already started to heal around it.  It itched terribly now.  


Her eyes grew with shock as she rounded his body and looked at the hole in his shoulder, “ _Holy shit dude!_   You said it was only a _scratch_!”   _Indeed_.   She had questioned him about the possible injury and he had blown it off in the heat of the moment.

“Well … _it is_.  It was not a problem, honestly.  It is quite uncomfortable now though.”  She pushed at the flesh around the hole and he tensed slightly at her finger’s prodding.

“It’s not really a **_scratch_** if there is still a _bullet lodged inside of you_.”  She was still shocked at _this_.

He shrugged at the nuance.  “ _It is fine_.  Please.  It has started to heal.  You will need _this_ first.”  He pushed the blade towards her and he saw her shudder.  In hindsight, he could have just asked _Goodweather_ he supposed, but he was sure the good Doctor was raiding the liquor cabinet as they spoke and had likely already consumed part of a bottle.  


She looked down at the knife and stuttered, “I … _wait_ … I’ll have to _cut you open?_ ”  Gawking at his small wound, he turned around further to give her complete access to his back.

“ _Yes_.  It is fine.  You have done this before, _remember_?”  She had pulled quite a few bullets from his flesh in the past, he recalled.

“Uh … yeah … but … “  She stuttered again, “You were … _unconscious_.”  The last word was but a mere whisper and he saw her hand tremble slightly as she reached for the blade finally.  


Quinlan winced at the thought slightly.   _This was true,_ but he was sure it would be alright _._  He had been through far worse pain than those pliers in her hands would even be capable of.  “ _I trust you_. _Just be quick._ ”

Dawn gulped as she raised the blade and the person standing in the doorway finally spoke as they made their approach to her.  “You should just let **_me_** do that.”  The condescending voice said as it closed the distance between her and them with quick and loud high heeled strides.

He turned just in time to see the redheaded Doctor attempting to pull the knife from Dawn’s grip.  The Poet’s face was a combination of relief and annoyance as she fought her on giving it up.

“No, it’s ok.  I can do it.”   _Uh oh._  He knew that tone.  She was highly annoyed and she felt challenged.

“It is fine, Doctor.  I believe _we_ can manag–”  The Doctor successfully yanked the knife from Dawn’s grip and for a fraction of an instant he thought there might be another moment of violence between them as he saw the Poet flare her nostrils at the woman.  He turned slightly more, wondering if he would even try to stop an impending fight.  It had been a long time since he’d seen any women fighting over him.  He knew who would win, but it might be fun to watch.

“This is _kind_ of what I _do_.”  Dawn stepped back and stood still for a moment as the Doctor began to probe his wound, ignoring her fully.  “If you need something to do, they need help carrying _water_ back.”  The woman didn’t even turn to her as she spoke and Quinlan disliked her _condescension_.  By the time he turned farther, Dawn was already walking from the room, silent and defeated.  Perhaps he should have–

The Doctor poked at his back again, “When the hell were you shot?”  She asked, happy with herself as usual.  


“We can just ask _Goodweather_ instead–”

“You think I’m less _capable_ than him?”  She was insulted.   _Good.  A button._

“At least there would be fewer _pointless_ questions.”

“She should have _disinfected_ this.”  She looked at the blade, “You were just gonna to let **_her_** cut into you with this?  You’ll get an infe–”

“There is _no risk_ of infection.  If you will not do it–”

“ _Fine_.  It’s your funeral.”  She said and he heard the blade slide out a moment before she cut into him without hesitation and he remained completely motionless, “When were you shot?”  She asked again.  “I don’t remember this wound when I examined you.”

The pain was bearable, but he did not _really_ wish to speak during the procedure, “When we took the Abrams.”

“ _Are you serious?_  This is almost completely healed–”  He flinched considerably, sneering a growl as she plunged the pliers within his flesh and began to fish around wildly.  


“Perhaps we can just ask _Goodweather_ –” He had started to say before he heard the bullet hit the desk and he spun to see her smiling at him with a wink.

“Let me go find a sewing kit.”  She started and he halted her.

“Just use the tape, _please_.”  


At least it was finished and he turned the other way to grab his shirt when he felt her touch on his upper back.

“When did you get _these_?”  She asked as he felt the tips of her fingers brush his whip scars fleetingly and Quinlan twisted with unnatural speed as he grabbed her wrist, crushing it within his grip enough to make her wince as they came face to face.  He sneered at her, “ _Do not touch me. **Do you understand?**_ ”

Opening her hand in a surrendering gesture, she smiled to him, “I’m sorry.”  He released her violently, pushing her back slightly before he turned to grab his shirt again and he pulled it down over his bare skin quickly, grabbing his coat and flinging it across his shoulders before he started to walk from the room, all without looking back to her.

She kept speaking though.  She seemed to like the sound of her own voice, “For what it’s worth, I’ve already touched _them_.  I’ve already seen _every **inch** of you_ , in fact.”  He rounded the corner without thanking her, sneering a growl as he went.

_Bitch._

  


* * *

  


Dawn had retreated from the situation entirely too quickly.  She was disappointed in herself overall.  Her flight or fight kicked in and she ran.  The Doctor made her nervous in a way that she hated.  The Doctor made her feel … inadequate … in _every sense._

She stood in front of Gus who shrugged at her offer for help.  “Nah shortie, it’s aight.  We got this.  We can’t fit much anyways.”  Him and Fet gathered up a case of water, the only one left and carried it back to the tank.  Goodweather was behind the counter looking for something and Dutch was still in the bathroom.  


They had gotten most of the useful foods, but she wasn’t hungry honestly and she grabbed a water before heading out the back door and walking a short distance from the building.  She wanted some privacy for what came next anyways.

> 
>     “I don’t like that woman.”  The native girl said.

“I don’t either.”

> 
>     “You should always be good to your neighbors, but I don’t like her.  She has  venom in her heart.”

Her words were pretty spot on actually, but this wasn’t why she came out here.  “Why are you still here?” 

> 
>     “I do not know.  You–”

“Who are you?”

> 
>     “I am _Hathų_ of the Iroquois Nation.”

“You’ve been helping me?”

> 
>     “I’ve always been helping you.”

“Who are you?”

> 
>     “I … “ She stuttered, “I am _Hathų_.”

Dawn sighed heavily.  No shit.  “You know what I mean.”

> 
>     The girl sighed heavily in return, “You need to let me return.  I will be missed.  This is _not_ good.”

“Return where?”

> 
>     “The place which lies beyond.”

“Beyond where?”

> 
>     “Beyond life.”  She pointed up.

Dawn blinked, “ _Beyond life_?  Are you saying … are you dead?”

> 
>     “I died a long time ago.”

“How can I see you?”

> 
>     “You have trapped me here.”  Hathų’s annoyance was clear and Dawn gave an exasperated sigh.

“You know what I mean!  Why have I been able to hear you?”

> 
>     “Because … you were born like me.”

“Like you?”

> 
>     “Well … like I _was_ , when I lived.”

“Tell me what’s going on?”  Dawn plead suddenly.

> 
>     “I can, but I _will not_.”

“Why not?”  A whisper.

> 
>     “Because there are eyes and ears everywhere, _my child_.”

“I am not _your child_.”  And the native woman smiled widely at her statement.

> 
>     “I am _not_ your enemy.  I am _your only ally_ …”  She smiled at the shorter woman before continuing, “Well … I and _him_.”  She looked over Dawn’s shoulder.

Dawn spun around to see Quinlan standing perfectly still no more than four feet from her, “Oh … I didn’t hear you.  Did she get the bullet out?”

Nodding, he took a gun from his holster, checked it’s bullets and then functionality, sliding the magazine in and out and she thought she had possibly gotten away with her little secret tryst before he spoke calmly, “ _Does **she** know where we go next?_ ”

Dawn blinked, “She?”

Quinlan returned the gun and repeated the same actions again on the over, very nonchalantly continuing the conversation without looking up from this monotonous task, “The dark woman from _our dream_.  She is your voice, _yes_?”

> 
>     “See, I like him.  He’s smart.”  Hathų hummed merrily.

“I …”  Dawn considered possibly denying more, but she turned back to her trapped companion instead and asked, “Well?”

> 
>     “You must head North.”

“North.”  Dawn repeated out loud for him.

“What is North?”

> 
>     “The gate.”

“What gate?”  Dawn asked.

> 
>     “The seventh seeks to reopen it.  The gladiator must stop him.”

“What is the _seventh_?”

“The _Master_ is the _seventh_.”  Quinlan answered and then asked another question, “How far North?”

> 
>     “Lake Onondaga.”

“Where is that?”

> 
>     “Lake Ontario.  [Syracuse](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syracuse,_New_York).”

“Syracuse.”

Quinlan blew something out of the barrel of the gun before he returned the magazine to it and re-holstered it, finally looking up to her as he smiled slightly as he walked over to her.   _Why was he so damned ok with this?!_  She stared at the ground in front of her, trembling at the thought of his belief.

“Do not fear your gifts, _Libellula_.  Embrace them … in _every way possible._  They will make you even stronger than you already are.  They will make _us_ stronger.”  He took her head in his hands and kissed her forehead, just under her hairline so very briefly before he stepped away, walking back towards the building.

“We leave in ten minutes.  Evacuate yourself, if necessary, and collect anything you may need before we leave.  It will be a long journey from here and I will not wish to make many stops.”  And he was gone.

It wasn’t a bad idea, she wasn’t he least bit hungry but she did have to pee.  Plus, she had the sneaked Reese’s in her pocket too and she smiled at the thought of it.  And as she walked back towards the building, she made a plan to ask him the next time they had a private moment why he keeps calling her _dragonfly_.


	105. 15.3 - Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a very good question from a reader about the last part and I’ll like to address it on a public forum, in case other people had the same question.
>     
>     
>     Why lie about the dreams?
> 
> I struggled with this before I wrote it. I honestly think it is IC for her character, personality and experience. Basically, **embarrassment** coupled with **denial**.
> 
> **Embarrassment** because she is a very private person and she is not confident when it comes to situations like that. She knows in the dreams that she did not hold anything back. She put herself out there without fear of being hurt and now the possibly of that hurt is actually real … again. Last time she put herself out there, he hurt her.
> 
> **Denial** because she’s grown up dealing with mental illness her whole life, watching it destroy her father, knowing that it destroyed his father and his father, worrying about it eventually happening to her. I think it cannot be an easy thing for her to just accept. She would doubt first.

Quinlan understood that, yes, _eventually_ they would need to leave the tank behind.  They had argued about how far to actually take it, and though it was uncomfortable to travel in, it afforded them far greater protection and so they would take it as far as they could.

Syracuse was at least three hundred miles from their location and the Abrams had only had around half a tank of fuel left when they departed the desolate gas station somewhere between Claysburg and East Freedom, Pennsylvania.  They made it another three hours before he admitted they would need to find another transport when they hit the city of _Buttonwood_.

Quinlan placed his gloved hand on the metal one last time before he looked at the map in his hands and the humans all departed the vehicle and piled into the next one that Mr. Fet had found.

_Hmmm.  Buttonwood._  What an odd name for a city.  He looked around and admitted that it really wasn’t much of a city though, perhaps a township then?  Perhaps a village?  It mattered not, he digressed.

“You comin’?!”  Fet shouted to him from the new “vehicle”.  The mountainous man seemed to enjoy driving vans, it seemed.  He looked back to the Abrams one last time before he turned from it _forever_ , grumbling under his breath.  It had been quite _enjoyable_ , all things considered.  In retrospect, it had been a little too _enjoyable_ though.

He walked toward their new transportation with the map spread out in front of him before he looked up to see it entirely filled with humans already and there was only one spot available for him.

_Hmmm._

The van was three rows.  Fet was going to drive apparently and Dutch was shotgun.  Gus and Ephraim were in the rear row, Dawn and the new Doctor were in the middle row.  He had heard some contention when reading the map and now he understood it had been over who would occupy the middle seat.  Apparently the Doctor had won?  He remembered the near argument in the convenience store and he hoped they were not fighting over who would sit next to him.

Quinlan considering going to the front and removing Dutch from the “shotgun” position, as she was so fond of calling it.  It would be best if he sat in the front and navigated, and then he considered what he might look like to any passersby.  If there were any left, that is.

_Fine._

He looked at the open door and the smiling Doctor within and he shut it from the outside and walked over to the van’s other side and opened the door, waving for the Poet to scoot over.

“But …”  She stammered as she looked up at him with wide eyes, “I … I get _car sick_.”  Her pout was both adorable and remarkably sad as Quinlan realized whatever the argument over seating had been, she had actually won it.   _Hmmm_.  He cocked his head to the right as he answered, “Yet you do not get _tank sick_?”

She shook her head back and forth before shrugging weakly, “I guess not.”  She remained fixed in her seat and he glanced over to the spot next to the redhead, withholding a cringe that very nearly escaped.   _No.  No._  He did not wish to sit next to _that_ woman.  She was unpleasant and she smelled quite strong still.  He waved for Dawn to scoot over again.

_He would much rather sit here, next to her …_

“Then perhaps it does not happen any longer?”  He offered her for her excuse as the Poet pouted again to him and the woman in the middle spoke up.

“ _You can sit over here._ ”  She patted the seat next to her, “Or you can sit _in the middle_ if you want.”  Something seemed to click in Dawn’s head and she quickly unleashed her seatbelt and scooted over, forcing the Doctor into the window seat and letting him sit next to her.

“Thank you.”  He awarded to her quietly as he nudged her shoulder with his, sliding into place before handing the map up to Dutch.

“We are heading to Syracuse.”  
  
“What’s in Syracuse?”  She called back to him.  No one else had been privy to their direction until now.

“With luck, the _Master_.”  He saw Dawn bite her lower lip at this.  She did not wish him to disclose anything else and he nudged her lightly again as he reassured them, “I believe there is something there which he desires.”

“Like what?”  Ephraim slurred from behind him.

“ _We shall see._ ”  Quinlan was very good at being ambiguous and he didn’t wish to explain anything more to them.

“Are we even ready for the _Master_?”  Dutch asked and her question was met with silence.  There was no plan but they also had nowhere to go and getting the farthest away from the military or strigoi seemed like a good idea regardless.

“Ok den.”  Fet shrugged, turned the engine on, and they were on their way.

It would be at least a three hour drive in ideal conditions and he hoped they would reach it before night fall.  It was no more than ten minutes before the redheaded woman spoke again.

“ _Oh god_ … what’s that _smell_?  Who _stinks_?”  Rubinstein said loudly and accusingly.

Dawn shifted slightly and smelled her armpit reluctantly, furrowing her nose at it.  Quinlan could read by the redhead’s tone that she was being antagonistic and he nudged Dawn with his shoulder again, leaning over and saying loud enough for _everyone_ else to hear, “ _Do not worry_.  She smells much worse than you.”

Both Dutch and Dawn chuckled lowly at his comment as Rubinstein rolled her eyes, “I do _not_ smell bad.”

Quinlan actually didn’t think the small woman smelled bad _at all,_ in fact.  He thought about it for a moment again as he had actually noticed her underlying floral scent, that had wafted subtly from her hair, as far back as the factory itself.  He recalled smelling it in their first … _embrace_.  

And since he’d removed her _Angel’s Kiss_ , it had only gotten _stronger_.  There was, indeed, a strong _musk_ aspect to it, which is what he was sure was displeasing the Doctor now, but it was far more complex than that.  It was also a sweet, floral, _and_ warm, with just a hint of _orange_.  Quinlan breathed it in sneakily but very deeply, mulling over the smell again now that it was much more _potent;_ riding atop a 110 degree heat source for over five hours likely had that affect.

At first, he was not able to pinpoint it _exactly_.  It had been quite subtle, even to him.  The tank had definitely brought it out more and he recognized he had smelled _this_ scent before.  It reminded him of a medicinal herb that was quite commonly used across Europe.  He smiled as he repeated the name in his mind.  It was [Angelica](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAngelica_archangelica&t=NTIzNzZiZGIxNjc5NGQzYzc4NzE2YjUzNzZkNTAwOTUxYzY4N2E0NSx3amFOTndMdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156318273258%2Fchapter-15&m=1).  He laughed to himself … _Of course it was_.  He breathed it in deeply again.

He had tasted this herb once as well.  It had been sweet _yet_ bitter, with an undertone of … _liquorice_.  Bumps ran across his arm abruptly as he realized _that taste_.  The thing which had been off about her taste.  That subtlety that had alluded him until _now_. _It had been **liquorice**._

_Oh gods._   Quinlan rattled suddenly as he breathed out.

He had _disliked_ it the first time, but now, at the simple thought of it, he twitched violently at _this_ recollection.  The movement caused her to turn to him and he felt himself flushed with shame as he looked away quickly and out the window.   Luckily the Doctor spoke again, finally commenting on the exchange between Quinlan and herself, and broke his state of increasing discomfort.

“Great… This is gonna be a _great_ ride, isn’t it?”

_Indeed_.  Quinlan looked back and down at his companion who was now pulling the orange wrapped candy from her pocket as she opened it greedily and he thought to himself … _Yes, it will be, Doctor._

Dutch’s ear perked at the noise of the wrapper as she turned around and spied the treasure, **_“HEY!  Where were there Reese’s!?”_**

 

* * *

 

The majority of the trip was in complete silence, much to everyone’s surprise.  Dawn hated sitting in the middle but she’d felt a surprising sting of jealousy as the Doctor had asked Quinlan to sit next to her.  She couldn’t read if the woman was fascinated with him for scientific curiosity or for _other reasons._

Regardless, she actually rode without getting sick at all, occasionally peeking Hathų in the rearview mirror, sitting happily between Gus and Ephraim in the back.  Eventually she actually dozed off completely until a particularly violent bump on the road shook her back to consciousness.

She looked up suddenly and around in minor disorientation as she felt the cold saliva on her chin.  Everything was still the same but Dutch and Fet were having some half amused half heated conversation in the front about … politics?  She was far too groggy still to make it out clearly.

_OH MY GOD, I WAS DROOLING …_

She quickly wiped it off with the back of her hand, thinking no one had noticed and she looked over at Quinlan’s shoulder and saw some moisture there.  Had she been leaning on him?!   _Oh no …_

_OH MY FUCKING GOD … WAS I **DROOLING ON HIM**!?!_

“I’m sorry.”  She whispered to him and utter horror crept over her face as she reached up and wiped it off of his wool coat quickly and he turned his attention from the window to her.

“You were sleeping.”  He stated as she furiously checked her hair, feeling the mess on the side of her head that had likely been caused by rubbing against his shoulder while she slept.  Pulling her ponytail free of its tie, she re-tied it back, smoothing out the bumps in growing embarrassment.

“Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.”  At least she didn’t lean over the other way, she didn’t think the Doctor would have been so understanding with her … ugh … _drool_.  She wanted to crawl into a hole and die _right_ _now_.

“You are exhausted.  I do not mind.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“No more than thirty minutes, I would guess.”

_Oh god … was she drooling on him for **that long**?!_

Her face was immediately flush with color and he detected it instantly, causing him to lean over to her, “I do _not_ mind.  It was a long night for everyone.  If you wish to lay down, I am sure the Doctor can move to the back.”  He glanced towards Rubinstein who made no expression of immediate concession.

“No, it’s ok.  Thanks.  I should stay awake.”

Quinlan shrugged and he flicked his head back towards the rear, “You are not the only one who is exhausted.”

Turning, she saw that both Gus and Ephraim were fast asleep as well, having made makeshift pillows out of their coats.  A moment of panicked shock struck her suddenly as she whipped around fully, scanning the van behind her and then in front of her, even looking down into the floorboard beneath her feet as the Doctor took note of her uneasy state.

“Is there a problem?”  She asked her.

Dawn blinked and shook her head, “No … actually, there’s _not_.”

The native woman was _gone_.

_Oh thank god._  She had started to doubt the woman would ever leave and she breathed easily for the first time since she had _demanded_ her presence.  The vehicle bounced back and forth while Dutch and Fet continued their debate. Quinlan stared out the window and she found herself eventually dozing again.

Back and forth, back and forth, she commanded herself to stay awake but her head swayed, rocking with an almost mesmerizing motion until her eyes closed for longer and longer periods of time.  She finally left them closed and in that state, teetering on the cusp of being awake and asleep, she felt his fingers touch her jaw as he gently pushed her head over to lean onto his shoulder again.  Her mind drifting as she thought to herself:   _Wait, wasn’t he wearing gloves before?_

She felt him brush the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear and she heard one last thing before sleep took her again.  It was the woman’s voice, attempting to be loud.

“So what is it with you two anyways?  Is she like your _little sister_ or something?”

_Grrrr._

 

Hathų had been released.   _Finally_.  Once Dawn had fallen asleep, whatever hold the woman had enacted on the spirit was relinquished entirely and she felt herself whisked back to the land of the dead in the sky world.

As she entered her home, a hand immediately reached for her, spinning her around and a figure embraced her in the darkness, “ ** _Where have you been?!?_** ”  Its tone was half terror and half agony.

“I am fine.”  She said calmly as she reached for the light on the wall and turned it on, looking up into the archangel’s eyes and finding them red and puffy.  He had been crying and quite a bit it seemed.  Her hand came up to cup his cheek as she assured him again with her softest voice possible, “ _I am fine._ ”

“But … _where have you been?_ ” He repeated in desperation as he pulled her close, nearly squeezing her breathless.  She had missed his smell so very much.  Every archangel had their own scent and his was sweet and musky, with an almost unnoticeable hint of citrus.  She breathed him in deeply as she hugged him back.

_Her Thunder.  It was good to be home._

“Could you not see me?”  She questioned.

“I looked for you … everywhere.  I looked …”  His panic was slowly shedding and relief washed over his shoulders, yet he would still not release her.

“She called me to her.”  Hathų had no other way to describe it.

“How?  I looked.  I looked upon them, I did not see you.”  His voice was on the edge of cracking again as he revisited her missing time and she pulled back finally and cupped his face again.

“You should not be looking.  They will see you.  He will feel it.”

“I .. “  His pain was obvious.

“I am here now.  And I do not know _how_.”  He could keep asking, but there were no answers to give for this.

“He felt you shift out … He …”  She knew he spoke of his brother.  The Traveller.  He had always been sensitive to her talks with Dawn, but it was more of an itch that he could not scratch.  An itch that he could not even find.  His finger was always on the pulse of the realms and _this_ , whatever the woman had done to her, had been a substantial wave across them.

“Does he know that it was me?”

“No.   _He_ … But no one knows what to think now.”

“What did you tell him?”

Michael shrugged like a little kid, “That I didn’t know.  I didn’t.  I came to find you to tell you and …”

“I was gone.”

He nodded, “I was so–”

“I am here now.”  She had never seen him in such a state of anguish before.   _Her Thunder._  He had felt entirely powerless and alone for the second time in his long life.  “What has transpired?”  

Pulling herself out of his frenzied arms, she moving to the sink, grabbing a pot to heat some water for tea.  There was no need to drink, but it was nice nonetheless.  Though they did not _need_ sustenance here, the feelings that they produced were still appreciated.  The taste and heat would be relaxing to him.

“The same.  Gabriel prepares for war.  Raphael suspects treachery within our ranks.  I … I don’t know how to fix this anymore.”

She chuckled, “I do not believe we ever knew how to _fix_ this.”  This statement caused her to shift uncontrollably for a moment and silence fell across the room.  They both _knew_ how it would have been _fixed_ and neither would utter that fact now.

“We’ve let this go on for _too long_.”  He sat slowly, easing into the chair as failure replaced panic.  “I don’t know what to do anymore …”

“You put faith into humanity’s ability to _fix this_.  You put faith in his ability to _fix this_.  It isn’t over yet.  There is still fight.  There is still _hope_.”

Michael shook his head now, placing his palm over his face, “At the cost of so much … at the cost of so man–”

“For the cost of love?  I cannot say what we’ve done is right. _I cannot._  But we cannot do this alone any longer.”

“You are saying that I should listen to Gabriel and we should march on Earth?”

“ ** _No_**.”  Ozyrel’s threat had been _very clear_.  He knew of his brother’s _indiscretion_ and he sent that message clearly, with every blow they laid on Dawn.  Hathų _did not care_ what the cost had been to humanity, she would **_not_** lose him.  If it was known, they would take him from her and there was little doubt in either of their minds that Gabriel being in control of the armies directly would lead to eventual chaos.  “No.  We stick to the original decision.  We let _him_ finish this.”

“ _Useless boy._ ”  Michael sneered to the floor.

“It is not just you and her that will be punished.  It will be all of them.”

She pulled the pot away from the fire and filled a cup, adding a bag of dried plant to it.  It was her favorite herb, as it smelled just like him.  [The Root of the Holy Ghost](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.botanical.com%2Fbotanical%2Fmgmh%2Fa%2Fanegl037.html&t=YmQ3OGI1NDI5NGM0MzU3ZDQ0MjRjNDliMzA5ODQwNDdhZmY1MGE2Myx3amFOTndMdg%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156318273258%2Fchapter-15&m=1), he had called it when he had given it to them.  It was the only gift that Michael had ever given man, created from his own divinity.

He needed to calm himself, to calm his fire that raged within.  Handing him the cup, she placed her hand on his and he stared down into it without words as she moved to the door, grabbing her coat along the way.  She did not really need it here, but it was nice to cover up.  It was habit.

**_“We are damned.”_**  He said as he looked down into his cup, his eyes filling with tears again.

“If that is so, then we are _damned together._ ”  He looked up to her with a smile though the tears did not abate; they flowed freely down his cheeks.  She didn’t think this was true at though, but she would never tell him that.

Who would have damned them exactly?   _The Great Spirit?_  No.  She had accepted long ago that the dreams she had of him had been _permission_ from _The Great Spirit._  It had given permission for her to _love him_ ; for him to love her.  There were very few things in her life that she was completely sure of and this was one of them.

He suddenly noticed that she was moving to leave and he turned to her, “Where are you going?”  His eyes pleaded that she not leave him again and she smiled.

“As I said, we cannot do this alone.   _We need help_.  I will seek guidance.”

“We can’t tell–”

“Do not worry, I will keep _our secret._  But we need to plan better.  You do not know your brother any longer.”

“He is fragmented.  He is not the same.”  Michael looked back down to the tea and slowly took a sip of it, letting its warmth trickle down his throat and ease the flame within.

“ _Yes_.”  She turned back to the door and opened it.  He could not follow her outside.  Others would see them and no one could see them … not _together_.

He called back to her again, slightly panicked at her eminent exit, “ _Where are you going?!_ ”

“Stay here and calm your fire.  I must find someone.”  She repeated.

“Who?”

“I need to speak with a certain _Armenian_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who might be confused about the last line: <http://bfy.tw/9fcs>


	106. 15.4 - Beauty

They had about half an hour of travel left but that was when things had started to get _cold_.  It seemed like the farther north they ventured, things had become progressively more frigid, frozen, and _dead_.  Few things in Quinlan’s life had made him feel _uncomfortable_ and this easily made the list.

What made it all the more strange was that it was now technically summer.  When they reached Syracuse, the city was a frozen shell of its former self and it looked like it had been for quite some time.  Birds littered the streets, having fallen, frozen out of the sky itself, and people were slouched over in their cars, frozen onto their steering wheels.  Fet had to take the van onto the sidewalk a few times as he squeezed by the cars that littered the streets.

“Jesus.”  Ephraim said from the back, “Is this _nuclear winter_?”  Whatever had happened, it was clear, it had happened _quickly_.  None of these people had time to prepare for _whatever_ had happened here.

“No Doc.”  Fet said, “ _Dis is something else._ ”

“ _God damn_.  Have you ever seen anything like this before?”  No one was sure who Dutch was asking but regardless, no one offered a response.  Once they had reached the lake, which Quinlan was sure was their destination, only the dhampir braved the outside as he left the vehicle and walked towards the frozen lake.

Standing at the shore for a number of minutes, he stared out across it.  It had been cold enough to freeze the entire lake all the way through and he waited, listening intently.   _There was nothing._  If anything had been alive in this place, it no longer was.  No plants, no animals, no humans, and no _strigoi_.  Quiet, peaceful, calm, but dead.

The dark skinned woman had said to come here but for what purpose?  He turned back to the van and stared at the _Poet_ through the glass for a moment as she offered him a shrug.  They were on their own for now and he looked into the twilight sky and the vivid colors that danced around it, meaning dusk was quickly approaching.  They would need to find shelter for the night and preferably somewhere not here.  This weather would kill the humans.

Fet honked encouraging Quinlan back to the van and he turned, throwing him a frustrated shake of his head.  Yes, yes.   _Impatient children._  He returned to them and climbed back into the warmth.

“O.K.?  So … why are we here again?”  The big man inquired from the front.

“I do not know.  I suppose we must wait.”

Dutch spun around, “ _Wait_?  Here?  What the hell aren’t you telling us?”  Even the heater was having a hard time keeping a decent temperature as everyone but Quinlan chittered in their own skin.

“ _Later_.  Right now we need to find someplace to spend the night and fast.  It will be _dark_ soon.”

Fet nodded, pulling forward out of the small parking lot as Quinlan finished up, “And someplace a bit warmer, hopefully.”  The dhampir had a suspicion that the lake itself was likely the epicenter of this _cold snap_.  The farther they could get from it, the warmer it would likely be.

Dawn shivered beside him, rubbing her hands together furiously and Quinlan removed his glove, offering his warmth to her.  She hesitated and he slipped his hand in between hers anyways and once his heat brushed her skin, she grabbed it tightly with all of her fingers.

“What direction now?”  Fet asked as he approached the road and stopped.

Quinlan looked down towards Dawn and she gave an almost unnoticeable shrug.  They had to go somewhere at least, “West?”

Had Quinlan ever sounded so unsure of _anything_ in his life?

_He was sure he hadn’t._

* * *

They had been speaking for a number of minutes and Miriam’s nervousness at Hathų’s presence was obvious.  If was not everyday the woman was in the company of such a _celebrity_ , it seemed.

“Are you out of tea?  I will get us more.”  Her smile was majestic and Hathų nodded, allowing her to retreat back to the cafe to obtain them more of the fascinating drink, leaving her and the old man to speak candidly finally.

“She is quite nice and so beautiful.”  Hathų said as she turned back to face him.  He had yet to let go and learn that he no longer _needed to be old_ , but that was something that would take a long time to overcome.  The age of your soul was not linked to the age of your body, after all, but it was an earthly habit.  Nonetheless, he was happy … _truly happy_.  So much more so than she had ever seen him through her Poet’s eyes.

“Yes.  She is.  She is my _world_.”  He said as he set down his own cup, “And I thank you for this visit.  You have _elated_ her.”

“No, no.  She is _elated_ to see you.  I am sure you understand.  She has been waiting a long time, _Abraham_.”

He smiled, almost shameful he had held onto life for so long as he took another drink, a drink that he did not even need, but … _habit_.  “Yes.  And I’m happy to see her.”  He paused and Hathų watched the woman in the shop, picking out the next flavor for her to try, “I hope you don’t think I’m rude, as much as I am intrigued to meet _you_ … “

He was smart; she liked him.  She always had.  She grinned as he continued his words, “I think we both know _you_ are not here to simply _grace us_ with your presence, are you?”

His wife had introduced her directly to him as _The Prophet_.  While there were many _Prophets_ here, this was a customary title of importance.  She was always called _The Prophet_ as a form of respect; they all were.  Hathų stood out above the others in one key respect; she had been the _last_ … or so they thought.

“ _Yes_.”

Abraham nodded as he chuckled.  He already knew, of course.   _Clever man._

“How is your adjustment going?”  She asked inquisitively first.  She did not wish to be rude.

“How goes the _war_?”  He was direct, but she knew he always was and there was relief shared in that sweet and fleeting moment that there seemed to be no need for _small talk_ any longer.

“Poorly, I’m afraid.”

He took another drink, “I _assumed_ so.”

“Did you?”

“Or you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

“I seek your guidance.”  Cut straight to the point, he will appreciate it more.

“ _I can’t help you._  I believe I was told to … **_let it go._** ”  He chuckled.  She had heard that he had, indeed, created quite a ruckus when he first arrived, making daily trips to the capital hall and demanding to know the status of things back _there_.  Some always had a harder time letting go than others, especially if they had left others behind.

“Yes you were … but I did not take you for a man who just does what he is told.”  She was baiting him with an offer of conspired defiance and she could tell that he _loved_ it.  They both smiled at this and she could see his shoulders relax a bit.  He was beginning to ease around her.

“I was told that mankind was _on their own_.  That nothing could be done from here to help.  It had been forbidden.”

“Yes.  But, there are _many rules_ here.”

“Indeed.”

“But do not take _me_ for a woman who also just does what she is told.”  He was so very confused by her right now and he looked upon her with growing suspicion.  She was a figure of authority here, was she not?  Did he believe she might have been testing him?  He was trying to read her, but Hathų was not an easy person to read.  She found many people underestimated her often.

“Pray tell, how can _I_ possibly help _you_?  And for that matter, what could we possibly do from here?”  The tone of curiosity in his grainy voice was sincere.

“Whispers can be made, _Professor_.  Winds can be blown.  Especially for someone _like me_.”

“What kind of _reach_ can _you_ possibly have, my dear?”

She shrugged, “Do not assume _we_ are alone in this.  But perhaps there is nothing you can offer then.”  He was not a man who would be willing to pass on _this fight,_ she knew.  He had spent his entire life in it, breathing it, fueled by it.  He was addicted to _this fight._

“I feel as if I know what you want from me and, as you said, this place has _many rules … **many laws**_.  I know some are **_more strict_** than others.   _I will not tell you what you want to know._ ”  His implication was shrouded in undertones but she _understood_ it.  He would _not_ be giving up the secret he knew.  He would _not_ be giving up the _nephilim_.

“ _Good_.”  Her hand was on his as she looked into his face, expressing relief, “ ** _Good_**.  And let us keep it that way … _forever_.  But I have no need for secrets that should not even be whispered here … **_nor anywhere_**.  I do not speak of transgressions that should not be named and after this conversation _will be forgotten._ ”  He blinked at her, surprise glistening in his eyes and she squeezed his hand and he nodded compliance to her veiled request, “I am here for information that I do not already possess, _Professor_.”

“What could I possibly know what you don’t, _my dear_?  It seems very little.”  Miriam sat back down at the table, handing Hathų a cup before pulling her seat back into place.  She was a beautiful and nice woman.

“Oh, my dear.  I was hoping that you would pick the _black_ one.”

Miriam looked down at the cup and furrowed her brow, “I much prefer the _green_ one though.”

Hathų read the situation easily, “Oh, there is a _black_ one?  Would it be a bother if I tried both?”  Miriam smiled widely and assured her it would not, trotting back to the shop again.

“ _War looms._  One that man will not fare well in, I am afraid.”  She said.

“I don’t imagine mankind can fare well in any war between _gods_ with _secrets_.”

Hathų nodded.  “Nothing is ever as simple as it always seems.  But we digress … I come for your knowledge, _Professor_.”

Abraham looked back to his wife as she looked in the bins in the shop, putting together another concoction for _The Prophet_ to try.  They would have little time now.

“I am doubtful I can offer any knowledge that you don’t already possess.”

Hathų looked down, “Perhaps not.  But you know _The Fallen_.  Better than any _other_ here.  What does he plan?  What can we do?”

“Here’s a thought.  If whispers can be made, then just tell _the Born_ where he is.”  Abraham was direct again.

“I … “ She paused for a moment and stared at the audacity of the old man.  “It is not that simple.”

_“Why not?”_

“I … we … cannot see him anymore.”  She was particularly embarrassed by this.

_“Why not?”_

“He uses _The Book_ to shroud himself now.”

Abraham cocked his head to the right, “But you could have, couldn’t you?  Before he had _The Book_?  Before he took it from us.”

“It … it is complicated.”  Hathų was not so sure she enjoyed speaking with him anymore.  He tone was quite accusatory and slightly demeaning.

“Why didn’t you just tell us _then_?  Why play _these games_?  This would have all been over if–”  His voice was laced with minor anger, even more so than was usual for him.

“Abraham,”  Her voice soothed him and he breathed deeply.  The next bit, she leaned forward, whispering, “ _ **When you must work in the shadows, you must not use a loud voice.**  _ Don’t you see?  We did help.  Did we not send you something to **_find him_** … something very **_precious_**.”  When his eyes met hers, he nodded as he understood.   _Yes.  Precious._

“Forgive my words … I gave _my life_ for this fight, while you all just sat up here, locked behind your pearly gates and watched us suffer below.”  He was so _very angry_ still.  It would be some time before he released it and embraced the eventual peace.  But right now, this was good, she needed his _fire_.

“ _All men die_ , _great knight._   ** _All_**.  Do not think your _sacrifice_ is greater than _others_ ’ have been.”  He pulled his hand from hers as he sneered at the ground and she continued, “We did not help because we had faith in _you_.  Because we had faith in _your ability_ to see this through … because **_I_** had faith.”

Simple disappointment eclipsed his animosity, “Then your faith was misplaced, it seems.  He’s … stronger than I ever anticipated.”

“You are _not_ the only one who has underestimated him.   _You … I … The Gladiator._ ”

“Why is this up to _us_?   _They_ did this.   _They_ cast him to Earth.   _They_ sent this evil to mankind.   _They_ need to clean up this mess.”

 _“It is not that easy.”_  She grabbed his hand again, gripping it fiercely.  Still so much hatred seeped out of his soul.  He had such a hard life, and it would be some time before he learned to let go.  “Is there anything we can do now to help them … to help _him_.”

Abraham’s interest was peaked, “Him?”

“The Gladiator.”  Hathų would not play his fool and the old man smiled.  “Him.  Them.  You know the remaining piece of _the Fallen_ better than any here.”

“Better than his _own brothers_?”  He asked as he turned to see what was keeping his wife.  She stood in the shop next to a tall, silver robed, golden haired … man?  She saw Abraham do a double take on the man as he realized it was not a _man_ at all.  Hathų smiled as she realized _Her Thunder_ was giving her more time with the old man.

“He is no longer what he once was.  He is barely a ghost of what he was.   _You_ know him better than _any_.”

“ _No_.”  The old man turned his gaze from the shop back to as he sighed, unsure of what he might be able to offer, but he surrendered to her own defeated voice, “If you wish to know _the Master’s_ plan, I can’t help you …”

She nodded as she began to stand and he turned his hand over to grip hers, keeping her in place, “But I know who can.”

“Yes?”

“Are they all shrouded from you or _just him_?”  Hathų cocked her head to the right with his disclosure and he continued, “He has a weakness, one that _the Born_ would overlook as important.  One that the _Master_ trusted above all others.  If you cannot find the one, then you only need to find the other.”

Hathų smiled and leaned in, “ _Who_?”

 

* * *

 

They found a _house_ … well … of sorts.  It was quite tiny though.  They might be able to find something bigger but this one would suffice for now.  It was isolated and not far from a non-frozen body of water called “Cross Lake”.  He assumed they were now roughly halfway between the frozen land and Lake Ontario.  They had traveled about 40 minutes west and it had gotten considerably warmer, though it was easily still more winter here than summer.

All things considered, the house’s small size would make it easier to heat and at least it had a wood-burning fireplace and, of course, it was quite remote.  This latter criteria Quinlan had been most adamant about.  There was no electricity but it had running water.

One large living space and only one bathroom and bedroom, which housed a tiny bed.  It was obvious that the previous owners used it for fishing and hadn’t been there in quite some time, so supplies were low, but present.  There were candles, matches, cans of food, and _loads of toilet paper,_ as Dutch had chimed from the bathroom when they first arrived.  That seemed to please her terribly.  Yes, it would work for the night.

Contention inevitably arose over who would have to sleep where and he heard the bickering begin as he quickly stepped outside into the coldness, bracing himself before he did so.  He brought in the silver case first, setting it on the counter carefully before turning to retrieve the bag of weapons next.

When he reached for the front door knob, he heard the metal of the case slide across the counter and he turned back quickly in time to see Dawn setting it down and grabbing for the latches at its top.  Quinlan was not sure he had ever moved so fast in his entire life, as he crossed the distance to her and placed his hand on the case, pulling it quickly out of her grasp.

The arguing abated momentarily as shocked horror fell across nearly everyone in the room and Dawn looked up to him with only minor shock as he whispered to her, “ _Please do not do that._ ”

“ _Sorry_.”  Dawn said shockingly, as Quinlan hid the fact that his heart raced out of control, setting the case completely out of her reach, “I was just wondering what was in it.”

Rebecca spoke up next, sharing the short woman’s confusion, “What’s the big deal with the case?”

“ _It’s a nuke._ ”  Ephraim said from his seat on the recliner, taking a drink from a bottle.

Dawn backed up immediately, “ _Waaat_?”

 

* * *

 

The reprieve from the argument was short lived and it soon struck up again prompting Quinlan to go back outside.  He would spend most of the night out there anyways.

_Listening.  Waiting.  Preparing.  Planning._

He wasn’t sure what for quite yet, but he would be patient.  He was good at that.  She did not know now, but he had confidence she would know eventually and so they would wait.  He sat on the porch, motionless in the swing bench listening to their fighting, staring out across the lake.  Unlike the last body of water, this one had life and he could hear the creatures of the night bustling about in the woods around them.

The redhead and Dutch seemed to be combatting for the room.  The men and the Poet were silent.  In the end, he heard Gus end the argument fully, with Fet backing him up on the decision.

“Listen, for tonight, I say the Doc can have the room.  She don’t know any of _us_ _yet_.”  There was a strange inflection on the last word from the Boxer.  It was almost a _hopeful_ tone.

“It’s just Rebecca.”  Even her voice made Quinlan wince now.

To him, this seemed like a strange compromise, given there was little room in the living area for everyone while Dutch and Ephraim could have shared the bed, unlike anyone else.  Although it did seem like they were not currently on speaking terms.  But, what did he care?  He would not be sleeping.

For now though he sat and considered many things.  Before, he would sit alone in his flat and think about the past.  His memories were a great source of pain and he had used them to numb himself.  He would think about those he had lost and the cost that this battle had on him, on _them_.  He would ponder his scars and remember all that had passed.

Now, he found himself wondering about the future.  What was their plan?  If they could actually subdue the _Master_?  They would need a box again and he sighed.  That was a problem for tomorrow and he smiled as he again considered the _future_.  As he remembered Rome, he missed his flat.  He mused about how he would have to augment it to accommodate another, more human person before he stopped himself from that train of thought entirely.

> _Do not get ahead of yourself, Quintus._

The door creaked slowly open and he cringed at first.  He was not really in a mood to withstand the human need to _constantly be_ in _communication_ with each other.  He despised _small talk_ quite a bit as he prepared for the presence of either Fet or Ephraim.  Oh gods, he gulped to himself as he hoped it was not that new Doctor.  Could he not just have a _damn_ moment to himself?

He had not really expected Dawn to poke her head out and once she spied him, she sneaked out onto the porch quietly and walked towards his direction, carrying a blanket and donning a man’s old and somewhat ratty coat that could easily fit two of her and he grinned slightly at the sight of it as the large coat reminded him of the first moment he had seen her in the factory.

“It is cold.  You should go back–”

“Do you _hear_ them?”   _Indeed_.  He could.  “No thanks.”  She laughed as she approached the right side of the swing and Quinlan scooted from the center over to the left giving her room to join him.  It was easily a large enough seat for both of them.  She waved something at him and he could see it was a rolled up book of some kind, “Besides, it’s quiet out here … and much brighter.”

This part was quite true as the moonlight was particularly _strong_ this evening.  It would still be a few days until it was truly full, but what light it was giving reflected off the still waters of the lake and made it even brighter.

She pulled herself fully onto the wide wooden plank, sitting cross legged as she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, before opening the book and producing a pen, getting situated to write in it.  Apparently she had done some pilfering of the house while the others had been fighting.  It seemed her scavenger habits had kicked back in.

He watched as she flicked the paperback book onto a page and he spied the ten by ten grid with sporadic numbers printed in various cells.  She started to scribble into it without speaking again.  He found those types of puzzles monotonous.

“Are you bored?”  He asked, causing her to look up from her book and thoughts.

“Absolutely.”

“I find those types of puzzles _monotonous_.”  He repeated the words he had just thought within his head.

“Yeah, _actually_.  Yeah.  But sitting _all day_ in a car … I need to exercise my brain somehow.  Now **_that_** was _monotonous_.”  She said and went back to the counting game.

Quinlan thought about it for a moment.  Odd, he preferred to sit alone and think; he found nothing monotonous about getting lost inside of one’s own thoughts.  He had no problems _exercising_ his mind this way … but, to each their own, he grinned slightly.  “Hmmm.  I think I prefer the word puzzles, myself.”

She looked up, bright eyed, “There’s a crossword one too!  Do you want me to go get it?”  She started to move to get up and he put his hand on her knee to halt her.

“No, no.   _Sorry_.  It is fine.”  He did not really wish to do any puzzles, he had just been … _oh gods … had he been making small talk?!  Was he … even capable of small talk?!_

She shrugged and diverted her attention back down again, “I’m not good at the word ones.  I’ve always been better with numbers.”

“Hence your career choice.”  He found himself leaning over farther as he slid towards her slightly, looking onto the page as he pointed to a square, “ _Two_.”

She scribbled it down quickly, “Yeah, but I wanted to be a _botanist_ though.”

“I do not think that would have been as helpful to us.”  He stated as he pointed to another cell, “ _One_.”

“Maybe not.  But man do I have a _green thumb_.  I can _grow anything_.”  She seemed quite proud of herself.  There were few things about herself that she seemed to hold in high esteem and this was obviously one of them.  Quinlan had been a farmer once, but he did _not_ have a thumb which was green, unfortunately.  He had to try very hard at that occupation.

“I have no doubts you _can_.”  He pointed to another cell, “ _Seven_.”

She scribbled the ‘7’ into the cell and then looked up at him with a sideways grin, “Do you want one to do too?  I can tear one out–”

Quinlan was suddenly slightly embarrassed, “No, no, no.   _Sorry_.  I did not mean to …”  He did not actually want to do a puzzle.  He just wanted to …

“It’s O.K.”  She shifted closer and pulled the blanket back to expose the book to him further, inviting him closer.  He closed most of the gap between them, leaving inches and the monotony of the task seemed to fall away as he pointed to another cell.

“ _Nine_.”  He had brushed up against the side of her coat and he heard some kind of wrapper crinkle within its pocket, “Did you find anything else of use?”

“Yeah!  I found us some–”  She giggled as she began to reach into her other pocket when the door creaked open again and Ephraim bumbled out onto the porch.

“There you guys are!”  He was slightly drunk, but … yeah, that was Ephraim, “Wow, the lake looks **_GREAT_** tonight!”  Quinlan begrudgingly shifted back to the left as the Doctor waved a hand for space and then forced himself into the space between them as he began to rock the swing back and forth.

Immediately producing a metal flask from his pocket, he unscrewed it and took a big swing before offering it to Quinlan, who just stared at it before glaring directly in the Doctor’s face.  Ephraim shrugged and offered the flask to Dawn, who smiled as she partook of the liquid.

“OOoooh, Sudoku.  I love those.”  Ephraim stared at her book and pointed, “ _Nine_.”  Dawn furrowed her brow at his suggestion and said nothing, but wrote down ‘7’ into the cell.  “Or _Seven_ I guess.”  Ephraim took another swig before continuing to talk, “Sorry, I had to get out of there.  I _fucking hate_ that woman.”

Dawn choked at this revelation, “What?  I thought you were friends?”

“Oh god no.  I **_fucking hate_** that woman.”

“What did she do to you?”  Dawn asked.

“ _Everything_.  Absolutely **_everything_**.  That woman will do _everything_ to you.”  He seemed to be lost in some kind of memory as he took another swig and then continued with his confession, “She will use you up and spit you out … but … “  He turned to Quinlan suddenly, slurring dramatically, “She likes **_you_** though.”

Quinlan was speechless and he wished nothing more than to silence Ephraim at this very moment.

“And let me tell you, she’s pretty _tenacious_ when it comes to _that_ … “

> _Quinlan could just grab him from behind right now …_

“And, honestly, she’ll probably get what she wants in the end …”

> _… Just apply the right about of pressure onto his neck …_

“She usually _does_ … And the more you _fight it_ , the more she’ll _want it_ … ”

> _… And the Doctor would just go to sleep …_

“I mean … I don’t know if _you **can** do that_ … “  Ephraim waved his hand towards Quinlan’s pants and the dhampir felt his face suddenly flush with heat as he saw Dawn look away, beginning to roll her book back up and shoving it into her pocket.

> _… It would be simple …_

“You wouldn’t **_regret_** it … is all I’m _sayin_.”

> _… And he was drunk enough that he might not even remember what occurred …_

“It’s the end of the world, right?  And god damn, she’s _beautiful_.  It only gets better underneath.  She’s _perfect_ ,”  as he made the O.K. gesture with his fingers.

Dawn simply got up and left at that point.  She pulled the blanket out from under Ephraim’s leg smoothly and left them both sitting on the swing as she went back inside, completely silent.

Ephraim took a swig of the flask as he said out loud, “ _Whoa_ … what’s her problem?”  He turned to Quinlan, who was now just staring into the Doctor’s face with angry disbelief.  He had no words to offer the drunk man as he struggled to push the rage that boiled within him down.  The Doctor had no idea how close to death he had come at this _very moment._

“ _What_?”  Ephraim said in minor shock, “ _What did I say?_ ”  He looked back towards the door and then back to the dhampir’s fierce eyes, which had not moved from his glare, as realization setting in slowly, “Wait … _wait_.  Do you _like_ her?”

_No … words … just … breath.  Patience, Quintus.  Do not …_

Ephraim continued, “ ** _Whoa_**.   _Sorry man._  I had no idea.  I didn’t think she was your **_type_**.”  He took another swig and turned back to see that he was still being glared at.

The dhampir twitched, “ _My type?”_   He was slightly insulted at the Doctor’s poor choice of words.  “Yet you believed ** _that woman_** is?”

“Well yeah, I mean.  She’s _beautiful_.”  Ephraim continued to try and explain himself, only digging his hole deeper as he stuttered, “Dawn’s like … _really sweet_ , but I don’t know … she’s more like a sister than someone that I’d wanna … ”  As he met the dhampir’s eyes again, Ephraim gulped, halting his sentence before completion.

Quinlan was not sure _sweet_ was how you should describe someone who could likely kill you with their bare hands.  Or at the very least maim.  He wished Ephraim would just stop talking, but he was increasingly becoming more insulted.

“ _Than_ someone that you would want to **_what_** , _exactly_ , Doctor?  Because _you_ do not think she is beautiful?”  He pushed and Ephraim shrugged in growing nervousness, not wishing to continue on with his sentence.  “Perhaps you are better suited for the **_shrew_** than you realize.”

Ephraim stuttered, “Hey … I didn’t mean to … I didn’t think–”

“No.  You did not.  I find you rarely do.”

Quinlan could have left it as such, but he turned before he exited the porch fully, “When you have lived as long as I have, you see trends change and evolve over time, and you learn to recognize the difference between stereotypes and _real_ beauty.  You start to _see_ reality and decide things for yourself rather than just consuming what society has defined for you.”

Was he done yet?  He considered.  No, one more thing.

_“If you think that harpy is more **beautiful** than **she** … then your definition of **beautiful** is broken.”_


	107. 15.5 - Beauty

> _Before the fire and stone_
> 
> _Before your world is gone_
> 
> _Have you some patience_
> 
> _Cuz I will have my vengeance_

It was the late afternoon hours of the city’s occultation period and the pathetic shell of a beast continued to follow the man in fatigues, as he had done for three blocks now, making sure to keep a quiet and sneaky distance from his prey.  The thing was hoping that he would lead it back to his place of refuge, possibly lead him back to more sources of food.

Such a loud and clumsy human he was.  It was a wonder that he was still alive in this city as he was not careful at all.  The thin thing mused to itself as he rounded the corner.  He would enjoy stringing him up, cutting his overconfident jugular and letting his life force pump down into the creature’s throat.

Twitching at the anticipation of the blood, he rounded the brick corner and saw nothing in front of him; his eyes shot wide open with confusion.  He looked from side to side and listened.   _Nothing_.  He could still slightly _smell_ him though, he smelled like–

Thomas hit the ground with a furious thump before he realized he had even been struck.   _My god, that speed_.  His immediate, yet fleeting thought, was that it had to be _the Born._

Something heavy was squarely on his back, pushing between his shoulder blades.  It was a foot, standing on him, keeping him against the pavement.  As he fought desperately to see what was pinning him, trying to turn under the weight of his opponent, he felt himself come up and into the air fully.  Hands were on his arms and he was flung, ferociously, savagely, and without hesitation through the air with more force than he had ever felt in his entire life.  He flew towards the sister building’s bricks connecting with the stone at least twenty feet above the ground.  He scratched wildly at the wall as he half fell, half slid, hitting the ground below him.

_My god.  What is **this**?!_

Everything blurred as the force of the impact rattled inside of his head, but he was up and running at full speed, managing only a few steps as he felt the hand on his shoulder, gripping into his flesh with its fingers as he crippled under the pain and his bones snapped at its powerful pressure.  

Thomas screamed and his mind flooded with absolute fear as he realized this was not _the Born_ , for he had been able to outrun _that bastard_ before.  Was there _anything_ that he would fear more than _the Born_ himself?  Was it … could it be … his _Master_?!  Had he been found!?

“ _Puuuuh—eeeez_ ”  he tried with his tongueless mouth to beg and he felt the hands grip his hair and fling him up and backwards against the wall as the man stood before him in full glory.  He was no longer in fatigues, yet it was the same _human_.  _Human?_  He was dressed in silver metal now and once Thomas was face to face, he understood at once as he eyes filled with regretful tears.

The size of him … the hair, the spots, the cheekbones, the silver, the _scar_ … the _… **eyes**._

_Oh my god … **those eyes.**_

“Apparently we need to _talk_.”

 

* * *

 

Once Quinlan was able to properly get the lay out of the land, it turned out to be a little too _isolated_ and there were no other cabins for at least two miles in _any_ direction.  At least, he thought this _might_ be a problem, but he believed it would be a good thing overall.  The other handful of lodgings weren’t attached to an underground well and at his suggestion that they stay here for a few more days, not many were pleased.

They complained about the size again and he offered that they were free to go on their way if they wished or to stay in one of the other cabins, but he would be staying at this one.  This had ended the _conversation_.  There would not be enough supplies for six humans to survive on long term but he assured them that the woodland area would afford them everything they needed.

At least Quinlan could help in this respect.  It had given him something to do.  On the second day, early in the morning, he had ventured out and returned with a sizable stag.  When he had heard it the distance, he smiled.  A gift from his _old goddess_.  This was a good omen and this brought him some amount of ease in his growing uncertainty.  The beast died a humane death, as he snapped his neck cleanly and carried him back.

Gus was eager to help him prepare the beast for consumption but Fet, as it turned out, did not have much of a stomach to kill anything other than _munchers_.  Quinlan could not decide if that was because he was soft or because his heart was too pure.  Nonetheless, they did not need his help with this task.

Of everyone, Dawn seemed the most broken hearted as she watched him carrying it back, her arms folded in a disappointed protest.  “Did you really need to do _that_?”  Her face was a contortion of emotions that he remembered from when she had given him that rabbit months earlier.  He knew this was _NOT_ because she was _soft_.

“You all must eat.”  He retorted at her dismay.

“We can _find_ food.”

“There is none and … this _is_ food.”

“We can go some place where there is–”

“We are staying _here_.”

“I can take the van and go scavenge for–”

“There is little fuel as it is.  We will conserve it.”

He was curt and almost rude about it, but her disappointment in him was stinging so he finally turned to her, “If you do not wish to eat, I will not force you.”  He wasn’t sure if that was true.  If it came down to it … would he force her to eat?   _Hmm.  Perhaps?_   Even likely.  Yes.

But she ate it along with the others and they were _all_ grateful in the end.  There were also fish in the lake.  She had volunteered for this duty after claiming to be quite good at it, but Quinlan quickly caught her catching the fish and then releasing them.  He replaced her on fishing duty with Dutch, who seemed to not have a problem in killing the water bound creatures.

He had watched her for a while from the porch of the cabin.  She was on the tiny dock that protruded from the property onto the lake, with her back conspicuously turned to him, but he could tell that she was catching quite a few and she would immediately get up and release them.

Quinlan remembered the guilty look on her face when he had sneaked up behind her, as she unhooked a massive catch and tossed it back into the water, turning to take her seat again and she jumped at his presence.

“Oh!!!  Um … I was _just_ … That one was _pretty small_.“  Her voice was laced with guilt from her outright lie.  It was _not_ small.  In fact, it was at least twice as big as any of the other ones that Dutch would catch that day and she had even struggled slightly against its size to pull the hook from its mouth.

He could only shake his head at this and she shrugged.

“ _Don’t judge me._ ”  She pouted as he took the pole from her and pointed to the house, causing her to walk away in a huff.  “ _Whatever_.”  He couldn’t help but actually laugh at this after she was far enough away not to hear him.

He was quite good at cutting wood for the fireplace, as he always had been.  These things kept him busy at least and brought back memories of simpler times.  As he brought the axe up and down in a clean motion, he heard the first shot ring out.

Looking around quickly, he saw no one immediately in view and he ran to the noise.  What he found both relieved as well as disappointed him.  Gus had set up a number of empty cans along a log, near the water’s edge, and he was instructing the short woman on how to properly aim towards them.

His disappointment stemmed from wanting to show her how to shoot himself and he walked up behind them, not meaning to be overly stealthy, but surprising them nonetheless.

“Ah damn.   _Sorry, Q._  I was just–”

He put his hand up to hush the Boxer’s pending apology, “It is alright.”

Dawn lifted the gun again and aimed towards the cans, ultimately missing as she squeezed the trigger, “Damn it.”

Quinlan stepped forward, wishing to provide guidance, but Gus was already there, “It’s ok _Shortie_ , here.  Try it again.  This time, don’t flinch when you squeeze it, ok?”  He tapped her hand in a friendly way right before he stepped back, giving Quinlan a nervous smile.

She squeezed this time and nearly hit a can, clipping a good chunk off of the log a mere inch from it.  “That’s **_WAAAY_** better!”  He laughed, smiling at her with a look that Quinlan had not witnessed the Boxer share with her before.

“Uh, but … I was aiming at the red one.”  The red one was three cans away from the can she _almost_ hit and Quinlan shook his head, but refrained from interjecting himself into their _lesson_.  He was very near the point of stepping away when he picked up a familiar scent from behind, causing him to cringe slightly.

The redhead bumped his shoulder very slightly as she walked by, “Target practice?  I haven’t shot in _forever_.”  She walked over to Dawn and held her hand out, “You mind?”

Dawn hesitated before giving the firearm up to her and the _Doctor_ looked at the gun, pulled the magazine out to view the ammunition, put it back in and chambered it once before she unloaded the magazine into the cans, clipping them off one at a time with _perfection_.  She left one remaining on the log as the magazine was completely spent.

“God damn, _Gurl_!”  Gus chimed at the impressive show of talent.

She winked at him as she stated a fact, “ _Soldier_ , remember.”  Turning to Dawn, she handed the gun back as she said lowly to her, “Maybe you should just stick with the _baton_.”

She turned her attention back to Gus and then ultimately to Quinlan, “Not be a buzz kill or anything.”  There was no doubt in his mind that is _exactly_ what she intended to be, “I think we might want to try and _ration_ the ammo.  If all we have is in that bag you brought …”

Dawn handed the gun back to Gus and immediately vacated the lesson without another word as Gus called out to her sheepishly, “I think we got enough for a little practice.  Hey!”  He moved to follow but the woman halted him with a soft touch of the arm.

“I was actually lookin’ for you, August.”  She asked, “Do you know anything about engines?”  Her smile seemed to distract him from following Dawn as he smiled back to her.

“It’s just Gus and a little, yeah.  What you need?”

She had snagged her prize and they began their walk back towards the tiny cabin and as the pair passed Quinlan, he spoke finally.

“Doctor, may we have a word?”

“ _Right now?_  We’re tryin’ to get that old pickup truck to run right now, _Pointy_.  Come find me _later_ , k?”

 _Pointy_?

_Hmmm._

_Later indeed._

 

* * *

 

The thing at his feet _seemed_ to be trying to speak, but Michael couldn’t make out a single word.  He picked it up by its chin and thrust it back against the wall again, squeezing to see within its mouth.

“Ah … that explains it.”  He released his grip fully, letting it fall back down to its knees, as it turned to look up into his face before he spoke down to it, “Here … let me _help_ you with that.”

He gripped its jaw again, forcing it open as he pierced a hole in his finger with his nail and let a single drop fall into the mouth.  It convulsed in agonizing pain as it jerked forward and backward, coughing and whimpering as its organ regenerated painfully within its chest.

Michael took a step back and looked at the thing continuing to grovel at his feet.  The healing was done, yet it stayed in a cower.  He reached down for it and as soon as it heard his movements, it spoke quickly while trying to shield itself from further strikes.

“My _lord … my **lord**.  _ Please _… Please._ ”  It begged and the angel smiled wickedly, showing his full set of teeth and the small yet menacing tips of his canines.  He gripped it by its hair, pulling it sharply backwards to look into its eyes again.

 _Good_.  It could speak now.  That was progress at least.  He wanted to hear its agony _clearly_ after all.  He reached with his other hand grabbing its face by the quivering jaw, bringing the trembling thing to its feet fully as he threw it back against the wall _again_.

 _One rib, two rib, three rib …_ He counted in his mind as the thing buckled under his punches and the archangel grinned in pleasure as he broke the thing’s femur in two.  Its lack of composure disgusted him as it screamed and writhed in torment, falling to the ground.

 _She_ hadn’t screamed for it … she hadn’t _begged_ it … _ever_.  The memory of this only fueled him more.

 _One kick, two kick, three kick_ … **_crack_**.  It coughed _serpent_ -filled, white blood onto the ground before him as it crippled and buckled under the pain.

“ _Please … **please**._ ”  It coughed.  Ah … _yes_.  He remembered this voice so very clearly.  He had heard it through her pain.  “ _My Lord … MY LORD … Why??  Why are you doing this?_ ”

“ ** _Because_**.”  Michael hissed through his strange merriment, bringing its head up to see his face fully, so it could look into _his_ eyes, “I am sorry.”  He chortled to it, “I _need_ to hurt you, **_my dear …_** ”

The recollection on the thing’s face was clear … Those were its words … to _her_.  To _his blood_.  To _his progeny_.  He could hear the shiver run down the German’s spine as it heard its own words spoken back to it in pure and utter calmness.

Every whelp, every drop of her blood, every strike this thing had laid on her, Michael had felt.

“No.   _No. **No**.  My Lord, **Please**._ ”

He was the _Right Hand of Fucking God_.  He had never been subjected to anything like what he felt from this thing’s hands.  To _him_ … to _his blood_.

“It was _not my fault.  It was **NOT** my choice!”_  It plead.

He broke the other femur, then both the arms, then both forearms, before he cocked its head back and put another drop into its mouth.  It convulsed again, heaving forward in pain, healing everything he had inflicted so that he could start anew.  He waited as the beast lurched in agony while the bones sanpped back into place and he smiled.

“ _My brother_ is no longer here to deter me, _little plague_.”  Michael could see that it was detached.  He knew it had been severed before he came and he smiled at it yet again, “Now … Let’s begin again … _shall we?_ ”

_One finger, two finger … One femur, two femur …_

_Nose?_

_**Nose**._

 

* * *

 

It was _nearly_ dusk as Dawn shifted suddenly and uncomfortably on the swing.  Quinlan picked up her uneasiness from the yard where he was cutting more wood to stave off the cold for the night.  Expecting it to be word from the dark skinned woman, he moved quickly and approached her, but from the look on her face, it was clearly something else.

“What is it?”

“I …” She grabbed her arms, which were riddled in bumps, “I don’t know …”  She looked down, not wanting to match his eyes as she placed a hand on her stomach.  She was nauseous … he knew this look.

“ _Describe_ it to me.”

“It’s …”  She struggled, “ _I don’t know._  It’s _not_ …”

 _He knew this feeling._  He knew it _very well_ and he knelt before her, grabbing her hands which she had bunched together in fists.

“It is not **_you_** , is it?”

She looked at him with confusion first, but it melted into clarity.   _Yes.  Exactly._  “It’s not … **_me_**.”

It was a rumble deep inside of her.  It was a quake of _something_ within.  It was an eruption of pure emotion that was _not hers_.  He’d felt the same, many times over the years.  It was when he had _felt his father._   This was _In Nexu._

“ _Describe_ it to me.  What do you feel?”  She stared down to his hands, which gripped hers tightly.  “Please, _before it retreats_.”  He had learned over a millennium ago, that if he did not focus on it when it occurred, the memories of what exactly it was were impossible to later decipher.

“ ** _Libellula_** ”  The word rocked her back to him and she looked into his eyes as he repeated, “ _Concentrate.  Describe it to me **now**._ ”

“I feel … _Angry_.”

“What type of anger?”  He probed.  Anger was a rich emotion, it had many roots.

“I …”  Her hands shook with the overwhelming sensation of it and she tried to look away, but he would not allow it.

“ _Focus on it._ ”  He touched her cheek, “ _Taste it._ ”

“ ** _Fury_**.”  She shook her head, “That’s not just it.  I feel **_Satisfaction_**.  I feel …”  She stopped for a moment before she looked back into his face, scrunching her nose to him suddenly.

## “I feel **_Vengeance_**.”


	108. 15.6 - Beauty

He took a step back and looked at the creature at his feet.  At some point, in the haze of torment and pain something inside the German’s head had snapped and he had tried to attack him, shooting the stinger out in a desperate fury.  He had grabbed it and nearly pulled it completely out of the strigoi’s body.   _This_ would have killed it.  So, he had stopped halfway and then just ripped it in half, tossing the piece of it away from him in disgust.

Thomas gurgled and convulsed at the action and now just laid before him, curled into as small a ball as possible.  He ripped the head back, seeing the tears that streamed down his cheeks as he dropped another into the mouth, stepping back as he healed again.  This was becoming less enjoyable, as he just seemed to lay there through the pain, seeming to be increasingly numbed by it all.

It had given up.  No more begging, no more pleading, no more screams and no more movement.   _Pity_.  He was hoping for more fight than _this_.  It had only been a few hours, after all.  He’d had _real men_ who had lasted through _days_ of his torture before.  In the days before _The Youngest_ was cast **_down_** , they had all been expected to share in the punishment of man.  Michael had made even Lucifer look _merciful_.

He stepped back and leaned against the wall with his back, waiting and watching for Thomas to move again, but he made no attempts at anything.

“I did _not_ … “ He finally muttered to him, “I did not _wish_ to hurt her.”  Michael sneered and reached down again, pulling the thing up to his face and Thomas whispered in quiet desperation, “I did _not_.”  For the first time since he’d started, Michael’s anger had dissipated enough for him to see the face and hear the words and it caused him pause as Thomas continued, “ _You know_ I am not lying.”

He wasn’t.  Michael could tell when _any_ man lied.  This fact almost made him more angry, but he released his hold, allowing the German to stumble and gain his own footing, standing before the angel with his head bowed in weak and utter submission.

“Yet you _did_.”

“It was not my choice, _My Lord_.”   _This_ was the truth.  “We have no _choice_ any longer … once we become … **_this_**.”

“Did you _enjoy_ it?”  He asked, looking for any kind of fuel to recharge his animosity.  “Did you _enjoy_ hurting **_us_**?”

“I did not, _My Lord_.”  Another truth.  “I did _not_ wish _you_ pain.  I did _not_ wish _her_ pain.  I … _liked_ her.”  Yet another truth and he hissed towards the thing as he leaned back against the wall again, bringing the bottom of his right foot up to rest against it while he crossed his arms.

“Yet, you _tasted_ her.”

“ _Yes_.”

“And now he has _forsaken_ you.”

“ _Yes_.”

Michael nodded.  “What is his plan now?”

“ _My Lord?_ ”  Thomas blinked suddenly.

“I have been told you know him like _none other_.  Where is the final piece of my brother?”

“I know not.”  He pushed himself from the wall, stepping forward as Thomas flinched in submission, putting his palms up in defense, “I know _not_!”

“You lie to me, _little plague_.”  Michael could smell it on him.  “He has _forsaken_ you.  He _hunts_ you now.   _Do you love him still?_ ”

“I will love him always, _My Lord_ …”  Truth.  This caused Michael to pause.  There was no treachery here, he could _feel_ it.  “I love him the same as _you_.”

“I don’t love that thing … _not anymore_.  Now, tell me what I came to know **_NOW_** …”  He drew his sword quickly, showing it to the German as he used the blade to glint the street light into the creature’s eyes, “And I will give you a _quick death_.  Keep it from me and I will continue my previous work.”

Thomas looked up suddenly and smiled.  The look caused Michael to strike him again.  He hit the ground with extreme force but the German only laughed at this causing the anger of the angel to mount again, to boil within.

“ ** _YOU_** LAUGH AT **_ME_**?!”  He growled as he lifted the creature by his neck, listening to the tiny bones in it crack under his divine pressure.  The grip was too tight to allow any escape of sound, but he could see Thomas’ face as he continued his laugh in silence, _“YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT!”_

 _One rib, two rib, three rib_ **_*cracked*_** … He crumpled to the ground and once he caught his breath, Thomas managed to cough words toward the angel, “You … you want something from me.”

“I WANT NOTHING, PLAGUE!”  The beast crunched and broke under his thundering punches and he resorted to kicking next.  When he was finished, Thomas was no longer conscious and he huffed, torquing his neck to crack it in frustration.

_Shit._

_Calm your fire._  He chastised himself clearly, hearing it in _her_ voice, his _Prophet_ ’s voice.  He breathed and walked back and forth for a moment, pacing to generate a calmness within.

 _Calm_.  Alright.

He bent to heal the German again, jolting him back to consciousness.  The little shit smiled again.

“Tell me what I want to know _now_.”

“You give away too much.”  Thomas’ smile did _not_ abate.

Michael resisted hitting it again with every single fiber of his being, “I give _nothing_ away.”

“Your emotions are so raw.   _She has tainted you_.  The same way that _he_ tainted _my Master_.”  He raised his hand again as the strigoi continued to speak, unwilling to submit again, “Do what you will, _My Lord_.  But you have given it away already …”

He pushed the German back from his grip, causing it to stumble back as the smile continued, “What do you think I have given away, **_plague_**?”

_“… That you **need** me …”_

 

* * *

 

Dusk had come and gone while Quinlan sat on the swing bench, rocking it back and forth gently while she laid beside him, asleep on its wide planks.  He had not left her side since the episode started, regardless of how _angry_ and _testy_ she had become with him.  He knew she was not angry at _him_ , understanding fully that the anger was not hers to control.

There were few words exchanged as it ultimately proved to be difficult to communicate with her in this state.  She had mentioned feeling something similar on the _tank_ , but assumed it was motion sickness.  She admitted it was not the same though.  Not exactly.  It had not been nearly as strong as it was now.  She described it as distant, very far away, more like an _itch_.

He sat next to her though she _demanded_ she was fine many times and bid him to take his leave.  The actual wording she had used was much more _vulgar_.  Eventually he wore down her reserve and she laid down on the cold planks, curling into a tight ball beside him and he had placed his hand on her shoulder.  He rocked the swing back and forth gently as it seemed to ease her agitation.  They were both in total agreement as he nudged her closer and she eventually rested her head fully on his leg.  

He had not noticed initially that he was humming along with the rhythm of his swinging until she was already asleep and because he didn’t wish to wake her, so he continued, or that was the excuse he gave himself.  It wasn’t entirely a hum though; it was more half-hum and _half-rattle_ as he pulled air around and through the stinger in his chest, vibrating it slightly.

Initially, it had been one of Tasa’s melodies, until he realized it and he shifted to one of Liviana’s instead.  He had _always_ preferred Tasa’s songs, but something about humming it for Dawn had made him feel guilty at this point in time.

He hadn’t realized he even remembered any of the songs until he was recreating them.  It brought back good and bad memories but everything melted away as he looked down, stroking her hair line with his bare thumb while he isolated his thoughts on the softness of her skin and her hair … focusing on the scent of it … of _her … Angelica._   _Of course._

He’d never found it was an overly pleasant scent until now.  He had come to appreciate its uniqueness.  It had a floral and earthiness to it and slowly he was coming to _love_ it … just a little.

 _Hmmmm_.  Perhaps more than just a little?   _Perhaps_.  Yes.  Completely.

As far as what he had felt from the Master in the past, this was _obviously_ more intense.  His bouts had usually lasted many seconds to only a minute or so at the very longest.  A nauseating and overwhelming rush of pure uncontrollable emotion would put _anyone_ in discomfort.

It had taken him _hundreds_ of years to come to terms with _this feeling_ , and he easily admitted to her that he could not imagine what such an extended occurrence of it would be like.  Experiencing this was not something that Quinlan had ever been able to share with _anyone_ else and he had gone through all of it alone.  There was no reason for her to do the same.  Plus, he knew that this was undeniably _his_ fault too; he had unlocked this within her.

He could hear the humans within and he had no idea _who_ to expect when he heard the door begin to creak open but he was pleased to see Dutch emerge, with _Dawn_ ’s blanket in hand.  It was getting colder as the sun completely retreated and she sneaked over to laid it over the sleeping woman.

She went back inside without uttering a single word and it would be another hour before Dawn would stir awake, feeling normal and nearly balanced.  

Until then, he stared out across the water as the even fuller moon rose from the horizon, reflecting brightly against the still water of the lake.  He felt like he should be restless, like he should be eager to begin the hunt of the _Master_ yet again, but he was not.  There was a peacefulness in this place.  He liked it far better than their other house but he worried over what would have such a crippling affect on her now. This only served to remind him that the war still ensued elsewhere.

What had transpired exactly …

_And where …_

_… and most importantly … with whom?_

 

* * *

 

Michael stared at him with eyes of flame as Thomas smiled back.  He was actually terrified, but he also knew that regardless of anything that transpired next, pain would be better than _death_.  He knew where his soul would go if he died, and from the word of the _Master_ , this was not a fate he would be able to endure.  He would stave off that eventuality for as long as possible.

“Then we have a deal?”

Michael scoffed at him, “What makes you think I won’t just _kill_ you after you tell me?”  Thomas blinked … Was he trying to talk him _out_ of trusting him?  His honesty was almost stifling to the freed strigoi.

Thomas remained smiling, “Because I know many things about you, _My Lord_ …”

“Do _not_ test me, _foul thing_.”  A threat … No.   _A promise._

“You are a man of your word.  I _know_ this much.  He said that there was nothing more sacred to you.”

A laugh from the silver man, “Yet did you not say that I am _tainted_ now … I am not who I once was, _after all_.”

Thomas looked at him with slight bewilderment, “ _My Lord_ , she did not change you.  She simply made you _more_ of what you already were.”

“And what is that exactly, _snake_?” Michael furrowed his brow,  “ ** _Flawed_**?”

“The _five_ were never _flawed_.  The _rest_ –”  Thomas attempted and Michael swiftly interrupted as he brought the sword up to the man’s throat.

“Enough, _silver tongued plague._  Tell me what I wish to know.”

“We have a deal then?”

A sigh and a surrender.  Michael resheathed his sword and crossed his arms, “So be it.”

“I know not where he is.”  Truth.

“You son of a bitch–”  The angel’s hand was on the hilt of his blade again, but Thomas spoke over his pending sentence.

_“But you do, My Lord.”_

The patience of the divine being was wearing thinner, “Do I now?”

“He seeks _the gate_.”

“Yes.  I figured as much.  He’ll never find it.  That knowledge was taken from him _with his fall._ ”

“He lost _The Call_ , yes.  He is no longer drawn to it, but he remembers where he fell, _My Lord._  He remembers where you three cut him asunder.”

 _“I had no part of–”_  The guilt on the angel’s face was painful.

“He remembers where you _forsook_ him and he knows the gate cannot be far from there.  It is only a matter of time _now_.”

Michael laughed, “If he thinks he can take _Heaven_ with a _plague army_ , then he is madder than we left him.  He has forgotten our strength.”

Thomas smiled widely, “Oh no … _no … no …_ he doesn’t seek the gate to return, _My Lord_.  He seeks the gate to **_destroy it_**.”

Michael cocked his head to the right, brows furrowing with confusion, “No.  That makes no sense.   _They_ wished to return _home_.   _The Truce–_ ”  He sneered.

“The other _six_?  Oh yes.  But not _my Master_.   _Never my Master._  This … _all of this_ … it has never been about _you_ nor _Heaven_ , _Great Governor._  He has never wished to return home.  For what?  To be allowed to grovel at the feet of the _family **who betrayed him**_?”

Michael shook his head in disbelief, though he knew Thomas spoke the truth, “It makes no sense.  You can’t _destroy_ the gate.  It is not possible.”

“ _The Lumen_ is quite useful.  Telling us many things.  The power lies in the _water_ and not the _land_.  An explosion, one of such blistering heat that is hot enough to evaporate all of the _water_ –”

“ _Bah.  There are **other gates**.  They can be reopened._ ”

“ _Yessssss_ , there are.”  Thomas smiled, “That would take time, _My Lord_.  To reconstitute the _waters–_ ”

“What would it matter?   _To what end?!_ ”  Michael hissed, “We would come eventually and the battle would be _swift_.  We have _purged_ the entire Earth before.”

“Time, _My Lord_.  To give us time to _find_ the girl.  E _ventually we will find her,_ you know.   _The Born_ thinks he _protects_ her, but he just keeps her alive … for us.”

“He is a _fool_.”

“Very much so, _My Lord_.  He is _in love_.”

Michael scoffed at the statement, laughing, “That barbarian?  He is incapable of such a thing!  I have _seen_ the atrocities that he is capable of.”

“Believe what you will … but my _Master **felt** it_.”  
  
“ ** _It matter’s not_**.  What could your _Master_ possibly still want from her?   _I am here now._  He wished my attention, **_he has it_**.  And I promise that he will _regret_ it.  He is but a shadow of _Ozryel_.”  Michael sneered, “And if he thinks that using _her existence_ against me further will play well in his favor, then he has forgotten than I am more _merciful_ … more _understanding_ … than _either_ of our remaining _brothers_.”

“She is still a means to an end.”

“A means to _what_ end?!  Even if you turned the entire world, your army doesn’t stand a _chance_ against **_mine_**.  He merely delays the inevitable.”

“ _Exactly.  EXACTLY._ ”  He chuckled, “We cannot defeat you … _alone_.”

“ _Alone_?  Who do you think would aid you?”  Michael laughed out loud now and mused at Thomas’ statement, “Aid from _whom_?   ** _Man_**?”  He laughed again.  “Man can’t even help themselves!!!  They _shit_ on the very world that they were given.  They bicker amongst themselves like child–”

He hissed the words, savoring the look on the angel’s face as he delivered the news, “Such **_two dimensional_** thinking, _My Lord_.  It is disappointing as my _Master_ spoke so _highly of you_.  He said you were the **_most creative_** of the _five_.   ** _Do better …_** ”

Michael’s smile faded and he considered, “There is no one else who … “  His words trailed and he finally blinked at the German, “ _Two dimen– … other gates?_ ”  Revelation felt upon his face, “No.  _No_.  That is not possible.  He is locked away, _little plague_.  _That_ cage cannot be ope–”

“No prison is foolproof, _My Lord_.  He simply needs a _key_.  And _you_ have made him _the most perfect and precious key_.”  He reveled in the look on Michael’s face as he continued the confession.

“My _Master_ hoped the boy would be that key, but his soul proved to be … **_Unbesiegt_**.”

_(Unconquerable)_

“ _Years_ of torment, _years_ of pain … **_Unnachgiebig_**.”

_(Unyielding)_

“Taking _everything_ and _everyone_ from him, yet … **_Ungebrochen_**.”

_(Unbreakable)_

“No.”  Michael’s denial was fierce, “It doesn’t work _like that_.  It won’t–”

“ _This_ … “ Thomas flung his arms up in the air and spun, waving at the fallen city around them, “This has been a sleight of hand.  A _distraction_ … **_for you_**.”  Michael shook his head, “You have been so focused _here_ … on _her_.   _My Lord_ , **_excavation_** has been underway for months now.”

Michael turned sharply to take his leave of Thomas, he face a contortion of anger and concern, “And you are _wrong_ , _creature_ … _I have broken my word before._ ”  He said solemnly, his voice laced with sadness, before he began to take his leave from him.

Thomas called after him, “This is all possible because of _you_.  When he saw her eyes, _everything changed_.”  Michael spoke as he walked, without turning back to him again.

#### “I let you live only because he _loves_ you.  The next time I see you, **_I end you_**.”

Thomas was alone again.  He looked down at _both_ of his hands as he smiled.


	109. 15.7 - Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this chapter was ‘Beauty’ for a reason. One of my draws to the character of Quinlan was that he is **not** conventionally ‘attractive’ or ‘beautiful’. Even though Rupert has managed to make him sexy AF, he is **still** not conventionally ‘handsome’, and I love that. As such, I think that his views of ‘beauty’ would be more practical than others and driven less by the current hotnesses in societal standards.

> _There’s flies on the wall and no one around_
> 
> _Once bright eyes are dull,_
> 
> _She’s half in the ground_
> 
> _And life goes on …_

The dream was the same it always was.  She swayed with the others, then severed and floated away from the battling serpents beneath her.  She was adrift until the wind brought her to _him_ and he plucked her out of the air.  Once in his hand, she was more than she had been before; she was transformed.  He had returned something to her, something that was taken and she had arms and legs now.  She used them to embrace him and he _smiled_.

_This was the furthest she had ever seen so far … but it continued._

He touched her face and she whispered something into his ear though she couldn’t hear what it was.  Odd, if _she_ whispered it, shouldn’t she know what it was?  Regardless, he picked her up, setting her up and away from the battle before he turned to join it.  She grabbed for his arm, but he pulled away and leaving her there, alone on that rock which was far too large to jump down from.

She was helpless as she watched him battle the red serpent.  He was smaller, but he was _faster_ , he was _stronger_ and when the brightness consumed them both, overwhelming and painful, she dropped to her knees to shield her face from its intensity.  The flash was fleeting and once she rose again, there were no serpents, no longer a battle.  There was nothing.  The land was empty and so peaceful, yet her eyes filled with burning tears.

She was _alone_ … on this _rock_ … unable to leap free and she stood still as she cried, staring to where the battle had been, where he _had_ last been.

The sun began to rise behind her and she saw her own shadow, long and slender on the ground ahead, quickly getting smaller as the light source rose farther and higher into the sky.  It was then that she saw the other shadow, as it crept up behind her.  It had moved slowly and had encompassed her fully within it before she felt the breath on her neck.  She stared at the shape on the ground, understanding what it was eventually.  Long, slender, and serpentine.  It was too big to be her serpent and when it spoke, its breath was _hot_ and its voice was _youthful_.

 **“You are not alone, _my child_.  You have never been alone.”** It spoke _Hathų_ ’s words towards her, _into_ her, washing over her, encompassing her, consoling her … _seducing_ her.

She turned slowly as her tears flowed freely and she looked at this new serpent, deep into _his_ face as he bent down to her.  His skin had no definitive color, it seemed to be shifting, and alternating with every movement.  His eyes were a patchwork of so many colors … and he smiled before he struck her with his fangs, catching her in his arms as she collapsed.

 

She was not _afraid_.   _Alone_ , but not _afraid_.   _Sad_ , but no longer afraid.

As the venom overtook her, he held her so very close and tight in his arms, placing gentle kisses as he stroked her, calming her, easing her away, until her life finally slipped away.

There was something peaceful about this … and she didn’t wake with a fright.  Her eyes opened calmly and she found herself still on the swing, her head still on Quinlan’s leg, and his touches still gracing her head and her hair, just as the chameleon serpent.

She breathed deeply as she realized he had not left her.  He was _still_ here and he reacted to her stirring under him, “How do you feel now?  Has it abated?”

 

* * *

 

“If she’s sick, she shouldn’t be around anyone else until we determine what’s wrong with her.”  Rebecca had been in full on _harpy_ mode when Dawn came back inside from the porch and she found herself stuttering a defensive response.

“No, I feel fine _now_.”

“Uh huh.”  She felt her forehead quickly, “You are still warm.  Are you still _nauseous_?”

“Becca, I’m sure she’s _fine_.”  Ephraim tried to halt the impending battle but Rubinstein was forceful as always and everyone else simply watched the interaction with wide eyes, unwilling to offer up any resistance to the terrifying woman.

“We don’t know what’s in the water out here.  She could have contracted any number of things.  We aren’t even boiling the water like we should be.  Cholera, Dysentery, or–”

“It is not a sickness, _Doctor_.”  Quinlan barked from the doorway as he entered.

“I’m not sure I want to risk that, _Mr. Quinlan_.  Cholera and Dysentery are both _highly_ _contagious_ –”

  

“Trust me.  I am familiar with _both_ of those illnesses, _Doctor.  She is fine._ ”  He twitched his head to the right and Dawn pulled out from her grasp, attempting to make her way to the bathroom.  If she could just get away from the Doctor, she would be alright–

“For you, _maybe_.  I doubt you can _contract_ those, can you?”  She wanted to fight for some reason and Quinlan tilted his head dramatically to the right in a manner that Dawn had never seen from him, but it seemed Ephraim had as he jumped to action again.

_“It’s fine. **Everything** is fine.”_

“She’s _running a fever,_ Eph.  She puked her lungs out earlier, _everyone_ heard it.”  Rubinstein was more than a little peeved at the lack of backup she was receiving from her fellow physician.

Dawn reached up and felt her own forehead.   _Running a fever?_  Is that even right?  She didn’t feel like she was, she felt fine to herself.

“ _Why isn’t anyone else concerned over this?!_ ”  She spun to Gus and Fet, throwing her arms up in the air.  Gus shook his head and Fet simply shrugged before speaking.

“If Q says it’s fine den I’m sure it’s fine.  He can probably smell dat stuff.”  Dawn looked over at Dutch, who was watching with a giant grin from the small kitchen counter.  It looked like she was fiddling with some kind of record player, but she had stopped to watch the ensuing fight, enjoying every instant of it.

“What do you want, Rebecca?  Do you want us to _quarantine_ her?”  Ephraim asked as he furrowed his brows and shook his head at her ridiculousness.

“You are more than welcome to leave if it concerns you that much.”  Quinlan smirked and Dawn used this moment of tension to slip to the bathroom finally.  She could not stand to be in the same room with that woman, and she honestly felt like she had it out for her.  She hadn’t spoken to herself in days, but the comforting feeling of it rushed back over her as she struck up a friendly conversation while she stared into the bathroom mirror.

>  “It’s probably all in our mind.  She’s probably perfectly likeable–”
> 
> “No.   _Don’t even._  Excuses.”
> 
> “No, we just don’t like her because …”
> 
> “Because why?”
> 
> “You know why.”
> 
> “ _Because why_?”
> 
> “Because she makes us feel … _ugly_.”

Dawn poked at her own face and looked at her hair, which was clumsily tied into ponytail, allowing several bumps of her hair to poke out above itself.

>   _“My god, this is how we’ve been looking?!”_
> 
> “Meh.”

She pulled it out and tried to use the comb to straighten it a bit, pulling it back into a pony tail and looking again at the bumps she once again caused.  Missing her hair straightener _for the first time since The Fall_ , she pulled her hair out again and considered leaving it down, parting it on the right side and combing it out a bit more.  She stared at the mess of it she had made and frowned.  It was _mostly_ straight, but it had an ugly, conspicuous bump across it where it had been in the pony tail.

_Fuck.  The only way to get rid of that thing is a shower._

She looked over at the tub and remembered there was no hot water.   _Ugh.  Nope._  There was _no way_ she was gonna go to sleep with wet hair, it was cold enough as it was.  She’d just take a shower in the morning then.

She looked back at the mess.  How was the _Doctor_ ’s hair so fucking perfect all the time?!   _Shit_ , even Dutch managed to make _ultra messy_ somehow ridiculously **_sexy_**.

Surrendering, she started to pull it back into the tie when it occurred to her that she could also braid it.  She’d been very good a french braids when she was younger and now her hair was obviously long enough for the first time in years.   Wetting it a bit first, it took her a couple of tries before she was mostly happy with the result.

_Fuck it.  Good enough.  Ok, what’s next?_

The little black bag that Dutch carried around with her was on back of the toilet and Dawn dug into it furiously now.  Tweezers … _check_.  She shaped up her eyebrows, insanely embarrassed at how she’d just let it go.  

>  “Well … our defense, we _were_ in a coma.”
> 
> “Yeah, sure.  We let ourselves go a long time before that.”
> 
> “It’s the end of the world … Does it even matter anymore?”
> 
> “Apparently it matters to Dr. McSexyface.”

Her own words jarred loose the memory of Ephraim’s voice on the swing the night before last, when he’d said:

## “It’s the end of the world, right?  And god damn, she’s beautiful.”

Looking around her face, she pulled some more hairs out that bugged her the most before she touched the fuzz on top of her lip as she frowned.   _Oh god._  Why didn’t anything grow uniformly?!  Why did she have to be born with these genes?

She stared accusingly into her eyelashes and considering going to town on them with the tweezers, pulling her lids back and glaring at her _[distichiasis](https://www.google.com/search?q=distichiasis+how+rare&ie=utf-8&oe=utf-8#q=distichiasis+)_.   _She hated it._   Just one more thing that made her _different;_ that made her _odd_.  Luscious eyelashes, her ass.  Her overabundance of them made it impossible to use mascara cleanly, it always seemed to clump on her.

She pulled her lower lids back and stared at the strange protruding hairs that shouldn’t be there and considered yanking them all out, but she’d let it go for too long.  It would take forever.   _Fuck it for now._  She would just have to stomach that _mutation_ until later.  When she was finally satisfied with the hair removal, she looked again in the mirror.

 _What next?  Hmmm._  Her eyes grew wide as she poked a reddish spot on her chin and she felt like crawling into a hole.

>  “Is that … _Is that_ … ?!?!”
> 
> “It will be, but it’s not a pimple quite yet.”
> 
> _“Oh god.  Fuck my life.”_

She blamed the time in the tank for this.  All that _sweating_ and _heat_ and … _Ugh_.  The first time since _The Fall, **again** ,_ she was having to think about _makeup_ again.  Like, foundation or powder or a concealer or _something_.  She touched her cheeks and the spots that covered them as she told herself again how _very much_ she hated them.

>  “What was it that YouTube video had called them again?”
> 
> “[Cancer Factories.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u5SNfZpSnTk)”
> 
> “That’s right.  And what was it that they said I was because of _them_?”
> 
> “[Genetically less attractive](http://kernelmag.dailydot.com/features/report/8233/why-redheads-are-genetically-less-attractive/).”
> 
> _“That’s right._ Genetically _**ugly**.”_

Pulling Dutch’s powder out, she held it against her face, squinting in the shitty bathroom light as she tried to compare it with her own complexion.  It was darker than her base color, but lighter than her freckles.

_Fuck it.  Let’s try._

She patted some it on her cheeks to cover a big portion of her skin before she realized how much darker it was than the rest of her skin.   _Ugh_.  It looked like she had gone to a spray on tan place.

 _Nope_.  That doesn’t work.   _Fuck_.  She scrubbed it from her face with the frigid water from the tap and looked back up again.

>  “What are we even doing?”
> 
> “I don’t know.  I’d rather not go back out there.”
> 
> “Yeah … but _what are we doing_?”
> 
> “I … don’t know.  I don’t … “  She recalled the Doctor’s question to Quinlan in the van right before she fell asleep, “I don’t want to be anyone’s _little_ _sister_ anymore.”
> 
> “We already know we can’t fix _that_ … not even with makeup.”
> 
> “I know … _I just_ …”

She didn’t even know how to answer herself and instead she looked in the little cosmetic bag again and pulled out a mostly used black stick of eyeliner.  Looking at her eyes, she considered carefully what to do next.  She’d always been _terrible_ at applying this, and making her eyes _look_ _bigger_ than they already were always turned out terrible.  Her eyes were plenty big enough already.

She pulled her lower lid forward and started to spread the black line on lower waterling of her eye.  Anytime she did this, it would eventually glob at her tear ducts over time, but until then, it would actually make her eye look smaller and more normal.  She didn’t want to do whatever the fuck it was that Dutch did to her eyes, but she repeated the action to the other eye and pulled back to look at herself.

_That’s good, yeah.  Sure.  That’s **subtle**._

She could still hear the Doctor and Quinlan distantly talking, but she wasn’t able to make out anything. As she put the makeup back in Dutch’s bag, she looked at the plastic object that was resting on the small sink.  It was an old disposable razor and it looked duller than hell.  It was likely what Eph had been using on his head lately and this caused more of his words the other night to rattle in her mind:

## “It only gets better underneath.  She’s perfect.”

Dawn peeled away the flannel overshirt that she’d stolen from the bedroom closet and then removed the giant undershirt of _his_ that she was still wearing.  It wasn’t very different in size from the other shirts available and she considered just grabbing one of them instead, but today she washed it out in the lake and put it back on.  She didn’t know if that made her _creepy_ or not, but she didn’t care.  It was _her shirt_ now, right?  He gave it to her, right?

She folded it and placed it down, turning back to herself.  She’d lost a lot of weight since everything went to hell, but she wasn’t perfect.  She could never be perfect.  She pinched her side and shrugged.  Meh.  It would have been nice to have found a bra with more support, more oomph, but her size wasn’t easy to scavenge for.   _Meh_.

 _What was she doing?_  She didn’t remove her shirts to look at her body.   _Stop it.  Focus._  She chastised herself before she lifted her arms to see the patches of hair that had grown underneath them.

>   _“Holy shit.”_
> 
> “Coma, remember?”
> 
> “Yeah, _but_ … “
> 
> “Oh please.  It was worse at the factory.”

That last statement was definitely true and she picked up the razor and thought about it carefully.  Would she be able to get all of the hair out of it?  Cause, it was pretty long and that would be _super gross_ for Ephraim or _whoever_ else was using this razor.  What if Gus was using it?

>  “Who cares?  Do you think the Dr. McSexyface would care?”
> 
> “No.”
> 
> “Then just do it.”

She stared at the razor again and set it back down in frustration.   _Fucking hell._  Putting her clothes back on in defeat, she gave one last smell of her armpit and pouted slightly.

>  “What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why do I smell like that?”
> 
> “Just put the flannel back on.  We’ve been in here forever, the _bitch_ will probably come looking for us to prove we have _cholera_ or something.”

Finally looking down towards her legs, wondering about the hair down there, she simply just shook her head.

>  “No.  That was a lost cause a _long time_ ago.”

She surveyed herself one last time.  The braid looked … _nice_?   _Sure_.  It looked different at the very least.  Her eyes?  They looked subtle at the very least.   _Sure_.  At least her eyebrows were now a bit more tame.  What else?   _Oh_!

She fished around in Dutch’s bag one last time, pulling out a scented and lightly tinted lip gloss and she spread it over her overly thin lips with vigor.  She did miss chapstick, quite a bit in fact.  Her lips were gonna crack in this weather and she considered putting it back in the bag after she slathered it on, but instead slipped it into her pocket slyly before she spied something else in the bag.

 _An eyebrow pencil?_  It wasn’t exactly her color, but …

_Sure.  Why not?_

 

* * *

 

Dawn had disappeared to the bathroom over five minutes ago and in the interim Quinlan had won the argument with the redhead very quickly when he suggested that that _she_ be the one who would _sleep in the van_ tonight.

She had demanded that it be put to a vote and when she came up with zero support from anyone else, she left in a _huff_ back to her room.  She was normally used to having the majority of support from men in the room, but she had underestimated that they feared him more than they might desire her.

It seemed like the bed was hers now indefinitely.  No one seemed to care, and he assumed it was because it kept her at a safe distance from everyone else while they slept.

He waited for a moment, standing awkwardly in the entrance to the miniature hallway that led to the bedroom and bathroom.  He listened for sound from the bathroom, but there was little and he wondered what she was doing in there for so long.   _Hmmm_.  He considered going outside to take watch before he looked at the bedroom, remembering today that he had wanted to _have a word_ with the redheaded woman.  Her most recent behavior made him wish to just get it over with now.

Apparently his indecision on what to do caused Fet a bit of concern, “Everything alright, man?”

Quinlan nodded as he decided sooner would be better than later and approached the bedroom door, hesitating briefly with a cringe before knocking on it.  The voice within bade him to enter and he glanced back to everyone else, seeing that _all eyes_ were on him with intrigue as he cracked the door open enough to look within.

“May we have a word _now_ , _Doctor_?”  There was no response and he opened door wider to garner her attention as she turned to face him, smiling widely.  She was in the process of brushing her curls as she draped them over her left shoulder and turned to face him fully.

He was surprised at the speed at which she had managed to change her clothing as she was now wearing a satin robe of some kind, likely one she’d found in the previous owner’s things.   _Strange_.  Judging by the way it was falling against her body, she was wearing nothing underneath it.  Should they have to run in the night, she would find it a bad choice.

“ _Sure_.  I hope you aren’t having hard feelings about earlier.”

He entered the room shyly at first, considering briefly moving the discussion to tomorrow instead, but he did not wish another episode to occur.  The damage she was intentionally causing was not appreciated and he had no patience for it any longer.  He chose to shut the door behind him as he did not wish the others to hear this … _discussion_.

“And it’s Rebecca, please.  Or just _Becca_ … if you play your cards right.”  She approached him confidently.

_Hmmmm.  He did not like card games, actually._

“Does it give you pleasure to bait her, Doctor?”  There was no reason to be polite any longer.

“What?”  She was suddenly taken aback by his _accusation_.  This was likely _not_ what she was intending to occur, “I … I’m not baiting anyo–”  She began to scoff at his statement.

“Why do you feel it necessary to dominate her continuously?”

 

“ _Hey_ … If you are talking about earlier, it’s not my fault if she’s hypersensi–”

“While _you_ may be enjoying it. _**I** , however, am not._  Your game is not only unappreciated, it is nothing more than _disruptive_ to the health of our _unit_.  As a soldier, I would have expected–”

She sighed at him, feigning innocence as she interrupted, “I think you are just reading too much into–”

He interrupted her, _yet again_ , “Do not assume that your intended manipulation goes without detection, _Doctor_.”

She shifted uncomfortably in her stance as she lobbed the next deflection at him, “ _Manipulation_?  I think you’ve just spent most of your life not trusting anyone, Quintus.”

“You will _not_ be winning my trust anytime soon.”  He glared at the overconfident woman as she smiled, assuming her beauty would afford her the same privilege around him as it had around others.   _“It’s Mister Quinlan.”_  This was not a request and he did not like his name coming from those lips.  Who had told her _his name,_ he wondered.

“My bad … Mr. Quinlan.”  She approached him with ease and lacking _all caution_ , her eyes locking onto his as the satin robe easily revealed her cold nipples underneath and he cringed at this aspect of her, turning from its view slightly.

It seemed she had no amount of modesty as she misread his discomfort for desire.  She was so very sure of herself at _this moment_ and as she took steps towards him, she reached out for his arm before he turned sharply away, forced to move away from the exit in order to create distance between them.  He would have preferred to stay close to the door, but he did not wish this woman to touch him.

“What’s _wrong_?  Why are you _afraid_ of me?”  She giggled at his retreat, “You don’t have to be _afraid_ … I promise I won’t _bite_.”

“I am _not_ afraid of you, _poor Doctor_.”  He was having little success talking to her like a rational person and he wondered how she might fair at having _her own_ confidence beaten down.  “I am simply … _disinterested_.”

“Disinterested?   _Disinterested in me?_ ”  She balked at his statement, furrowing her brow before enlightenment washed over her, “Oh … I didn’t realize you swung _that_ way.”

 _That way?  Hmmm._  Would the only way a man be uninterested in her if he were _homosexual_?

In all honestly, Quinlan didn’t really see a point in defining himself as _swinging_ any particular direction, though he did have a preference, it was most certainly none of her concern either way.  He found her attitude and nature the very opposite of appealing.  He could have let it slide like this and her advancements would be finished, but he wasn’t pleased with her abundance of self worth.

“I’m sorry … I just assumed … how you act towards–”  She looked relieved suddenly.

He smiled, “Do not misunderstand me.  I enjoy _women_ … quite a bit actually.  So much so that I’ve had _thousands_ of them.”

Her brows re-furrowed, “O.K.  Then what exactly is the problem?  You got some kinda strange _short_ kink or something?”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right with the unfamiliar term, “ _Kink_?”

“You know … something **_abnormal_** that turns you on.”

Again, she attempts to manipulate the conversation by pointing out something that she perceives as a flaw in her competition.  Quinlan chuckled, _“I have had shorter.”_   _The Doctor_ raised an eyebrow to him.

 _Hmmm_.  That wasn’t necessarily the best retort, he thought.  That was a bit odd to say.  “It matters not, her height is of no importance to _this_ conversation.”

“Alright then, what is it?  Am I not _big_ enough for you?”  Now she will attack her curves.  This was a _strange_ attack, as the _Doctor_ ’s curves were not even noticeably smaller than Dawn’s, but her body was taller and far more slender, so he supposed it was harder for humans to discern the similarity.

What could he say?  What would be the most hurtful?   _Hmmm_.  Quinlan grinned wickedly before he spoke, “There is nothing **_abnormal_** at all.  Quite the opposite actually.  I simply prefer _natural_ women.”

Her smile made him wince.  “Done.  I promise you, I’m one hundred percent _real_.”  She was impressively amused at her own words, but Quinlan knew they were lies.

“You think your _treachery_ is that clever?  I can smell all of the chemicals on you … _inside of you_ , even at _this_ distance.  The ones you rub into your skin, the ones that are _under_ the skin of your lips and I can even _smell_ the plastic of your chest from all the way over _here_.”

He had finally hit some kind of nerve and she seemed taken back by his words as she covered her breasts with her hands, pulling the robe tightly across her, “ _Whoa_.  That’s _not_ … true.”

There it was.  He knew every human had it.   _Vulnerability_.  This shield of _fake confidence_ was made of silicone and retinol.  Should he continue?  Should he say more?  He remembered the look on Dawn’s face when she had handed the gun back to her today, smiling as she stole the Boxer from their lesson.

_Yes.  More._

“Not true?  Who are you trying to convince?  Me or yourself?  What about all of the hundreds of scars that I can see even from here?”

She was shocked as she laughed at him, “Scars?  Ok, now I know you are just full of shi–”

“All of those follicles that you have had cauterized and burned shut.”

His eyesight was phenomenal but he really couldn’t see them from where he stood at _this_ moment.  He’d actually noticed them when she had been quite close, leaning over him in the chair that night in the military base.  Regardless, he enjoyed the look at on her face now.

Her hand went up to her face, “There is no way you can see that.  You are _disgusting_.”  It was not just her face that she had burned the hair from, but her arms, her legs.  There were no doubts she’d burned the hair from _other places_ as well.

“ _Disgusting_?  Because I know you are not the embodiment of perfection itself?  Or because I know that everything you are is just a result of the latest trend of societal body mutilation?”

“Get out.”  She looked upset with near tears in her eyes but Quinlan doubted she was even possible of feeling that emotion fully.  Regardless he felt like he had won and he heard the bathroom door open and close finally.  He attempted to move past her and she reached out for him again, grabbing his arm and pulling her body close to him.

 _Hmmm_.  The tears were a ruse.  They likely worked on more susceptible men?   _Perhaps_?  He remembered _Goodweather_ ’s words from the night before last:

## “And the more you fight it, the more she’ll want it … ”

She brushed her breasts across his arm so that he could feel their volume fully and she reached for his face with one hand and her other hand glided down towards _something else_ , Quinlan’s reaction was absolute and swift.  He was so much faster than she had anticipated, grabbing her shoulder as he flung her against the wall that this room shared with the living area and she hit it with a hard thud.

He pinned her wrists while he growled a threatening warning to her.  His anger was full of rattles as he squeezed her wrists and she wiggled under his grip, letting out a pleased groan at his action as she smiled and bit her lower lip.

 _Oh gods_ … _This_ was not his intention.  She was enjoying _this_!   _She was fucking toying with him!_

He released her at once and stepped back towards the door.

_This was done._

 

* * *

 

Dawn exited the bathroom, finally pleased with whatever she had done to herself and she was actually smiling until she heard Quinlan’s voice through the _shut_ bedroom door.  As she entered the living area, everyone was staring at the wall that the room shared with the bedroom, with eyes wide and some mouths agape.  Dutch was standing next to it, looking somewhat guilty as it was obvious she had just had her ear pressed to it.

She was just about to ask what was going on when she heard something hit the wall forcibly, followed by the _Doctor_ groaning something and then Quinlan growling and rattling loudly, causing Dawn’s jaw to drop completely open.

_Oh my god …  
_

_Are they … ?_

_Is he … ?_

_Did she …?_

She remembered Eph’s voice from the night before last again:

## “And, honestly, she’ll probably get what she wants in the end …”

She was almost certain she was going to throw up again and she grabbed her jacket quickly and fled the house as swiftly as she could before they could read the raw emotion that bubbled up and out of her eyes and the door slammed shut behind her as she walked down the steps and started to shuffled quickly towards the water.  She only made out a portion of Dutch’s voice as it called out to her, “Oy!   _Wait_ , it’s not what–”

 

* * *

 

Someone had left the cabin, slamming the door behind them and he reached for the knob, wishing to vacate her presence at once.  “ _Oh come on_ … I know you can … what’s the problem?”  She knows he can?  He shot her a look of bafflement and she shrugged, “You were dreaming at the base … let’s just say it seemed like it was a good dream.”

_Oh gods … the dream … he had been … **aroused**?!_

_Oh for fuck’s sake._

Quinlan’s face flushed with heat caused by the sudden shame of her reveal.  Whatever look was on his face, it was easy for her to read, “You don’t need to be embarrassed about anything … and trust me … _especially not about that.”_

Something snapped inside of his head as he was suddenly reminded of when he had been a gladiator … of when he had been _bought_ and _used_ on a nightly basis by Patrician men and women, husbands and wives.  This woman wished to _use_ him because she’d seen him?  Quinlan so _very rarely_ lost his temper with _anyone_ , especially _humans_.  They simply were not worth his effort, _but he was not a slave any longer._

_**Never again.**  
_

His hand was on her throat before he fully realized it and she was back against the wall.  He could not make this _pleasant_ for her and he gripped as her eyes widened.  His eyes were clear in their expression: _Understand this will not be fun._

He whispered, “If you were a man, this behavior would be _unacceptable_.  If you were a man, I assure you that you would _already_ be dead.  I told you **_not to touch me again_**.  I do not find you _attractive_ nor _beautiful_ nor _desirable_.”

She attempted to say something and he tightened his grip ever so slightly halting her words within her throat before he spoke softly again, “ _Listen to me carefully, temptress._ ”  It was a whispered hiss, barely audible, “You think you are beyond rules of basic societal politeness?  You think you can _objectify_ others because simply because you have been _objectified_?”

She could not speak, she could barely even breath and he could see the color changing in her face as her hands came up and tried to push him away.   _Futile_.  “I have _fucked_ thousands of women … _thousands_ … I have had countesses, duchesses, princesses and _even_ queens, most of whom were _far more beautiful_ than you.”

He could see all of her scared follicles at this distance and there were more than he even remembered.  “And I remember **_none_** of them, I remember _nothing_ about how the _beautiful_ ones felt.  All women feel the same on the inside regardless of how they look on the outside, _Doctor_. ”

Her eyes had started to bulge a bit as she started to slap his chest, but his annoyance was ripe, “The most memorable _fuck_ I have _ever had_ was a mere plebeian woman whom _you_ would have **_cringed_** to look upon.”

He smelled her neck deeply, fighting the gag that her chemicals invoked in him.  He did it to intimidate now.  “You wish to feel me _inside_ you?  You wish me to _penetrate_ you?  Perhaps I should just _comply_ … however not in a manner that _you_ will enjoy.”  He opened his mouth and slowly slipped his stinger from its tongue sheath, allowing the strigoi lubricating saliva to drip heavily from it as he pushed it towards the exposed skin of her neck beneath his grip.

Her eyes were frantic and her beating on his chest increased, she tried to kick at him now, to knee him, in her desperation and he released her once enough fear had crossed her face.

There it was … what he had been **_looking_** for.  He accomplished what he had intended as she would no longer see him as a man … she would see him for what he was … a _monster_.

She coughed as she lunged forward, grabbing for the bed as the blood rushed back to her head and she stumbled.  She couldn’t speak fully, but in a rasp she attempting an insult, “You are a fucking mons–”                                                

“A _Monster_?  Indeed, _Doctor_.  Do not underestimate the _mercy_ I have shown you here … _now_.  If you were a _man_ and you attempted to touch me as you have, you would already be _dead_.”

He reached for the handle, but before he opened the door he finished the conversation, “There will be no more _games_.  No more _domination_.  No more _flirtations_ or _manipulations_.  If we have to speak again, I will not show mercy.”

He shut the door behind him and looked at all of the faces in the living area.  Fet’s face was easily the most shocked, Dutch was carrying a strangely massive grin on her face and she gave him a little thumbs up sign and Ephraim sighed heavily.

“What?”  He asked.

“Thin walls, ese.   _Thin walls_.”  Gus laughed as he shook his head.

“Do you feel better about yourself now?”  Ephraim asked, seemingly annoyed with Quinlan’s behavior.

“I do actually, yes.  She is a _toxic_ person.”

“You didn’t have to be so _mean_.  She’s not a _bad person_.”  Ephraim was _disappointed_ in _him_.  _Hmmm._

Quinlan furrowed his nose at the _Doctor_ , “Perhaps you need to … “ He paused, trying to remember the terminology that Dutch was so fond of, “… _get your head out of your ass._  You are simply clouded by your desire to **_continue fucking_** her, _Doctor_.”

Utter silence fell across the room quickly and all eyes fell on Dutch suddenly as he heard her heart rate increase and her eyes fell to the floor.  He had never seen the Hacker move with such speed, as she grabbed her coat to exit the house and Ephraim tried to stop her, as he reached out.

**_“Wait wait wait!”_ **

“DON’T TOUCH ME.  JUST DON’T.”  She tried to pull out of his grip and he refused to let her go and she continued, “It’s alright.  I kind already knew I think.”

“No, it’s not like that.  It’s NOT LIKE THAT.”  Ephraim was desperate.

“Then what exactly is it like, Love?”  She turned to Quinlan, “Was he _fucking_ _her_ at the base?  Was he _fucking_ _her_ while I was in jail?!  Was he?!”

Ephraim shook his head at the dhampir, begging him to say nothing and Quinlan hesitated briefly, but felt no real allegiance to the man.  The Hacker was a far better ally to keep and he nodded affirmatively to her, “ _Daily_.”  There was an uncomfortable tension and he spoke again, “And _nightly_.”

 _In hindsight, perhaps he should have been more careful with his words though_.  This was not good for the health of the _unit_ either.

“It’s alright.  It’s O.K.  I’m pretty sure I already knew.”  She ripped herself out of his grip and tore out the door.  Ephraim tried to move to follow but Fet was on him, holding him back.

“Get out of my way, you son of a bitch!”  The Doctor spat at the big man and Quinlan looked over to Gus who was still shaking his head.  This was about to get violent and he inserted himself between the fighting man-children quickly, pushing them both back.

“ ** _Enough_**!”

Fet smiled, “You’ve always been a piece of shit, Doc.  She deserves better than you.”  And he was gone out the door to follow the upset _Hacker_.

_Ugh. **Children**._

Quinlan knew someone was _missing_ and once he looked back towards the bathroom, Gus pointed to the front door, _“She went that way.”_  He exited the house in pursuit.

 

* * *

 

Ephraim collapsed back into one of the recliners and produced his flask again, taking a swig, “Fuck.”

Gus held his hand out for the flask and Ephraim begrudgingly shared with him, “W.W.Q.S., bruh.  W.W.Q.S.”

Ephraim cocked his head in confusion, “What?”

“What would Quinlan Say, man.”  Gus laughed.

“ _Fuck_.  I fucking _hate_ that woman.”

 

* * *

 

He found her sitting on the rotted dock, swinging her legs back and forth over its edge, just above the water with the hood pulled up and over her head.  It was exactly where she’d been sitting when she was pretend “fishing” and he quietly slid down next to her.  Ultimately she was quite shocked at his presence as she jumped.

“ _Holy fuck dude_.  Do you think you can **_not_** do that?”

Quinlan shrugged as he eased into place beside her, “It is not intentional.  It is my _nature_.”

“Done already?  That was _fast_.”

She was shielding her face from him but he could tell she was obviously upset, “She will _not_ bother you again.  I believe I have negotiated a … _cease fire_.”  He stated, quite pleased with himself and his clever wording.

“Oh?”  She wouldn’t turn to him, “Just like _that_?”

 _Just like that?_  It actually wasn’t _that_ easy nor that _fast_.  It had taken much longer to subdue that woman than he had assumed, “Yes.  I believe I was _forceful_ enough about it.”

“I really don’t need _details_ , Quinlan.”

Very well then, perhaps he would not speak of it further.  He wished to keep the details of her attempted rape to himself anyways.  Although he did feel a twinge of guilt over his unintentional outing of _Goodweather_ , and he suddenly felt like he should confess it to her.  “I believe I may have upset Ms. Velders though.  I said something that perhaps I should not have–”

“I don’t really feel like chatting right now.”

 _Hmmm_.  “Are you feeling bad again?”  Her curtness with him was concerning and he hoped perhaps there was something external causing it.

“I’m _fine_.  I came out here to be alone.  Can you just … “  She gulped, “… _go away_?”  At least this was less _vulgar_ than the language she had used with him earlier when she was experiencing _In Nexu._  

Looking down at his hands for a moment, he really did consider obeying her request, but first …

“Are you upset because I spoke to her _for you_?”

“Mr. Quinlan, I really don’t–”

“Should I have let you _speak_ to her instead?  I did not mean to overstep any bounds but it did not seem like you liked to interact with her.”

“I guess you preferred to _interact_ with her yourself, huh?”   _Oh gods, what a tone she had used with him_.  Quinlan did not like that, it was very … _accusatory_.

“You flee in her presence.  She is quite dominating, I can see how–”

“I don’t care what you do, O.K.?  You can do whatever you want.  You don’t need my _permission_.”  Wait … Had she been _crying_?  He could smell dried tears and something else along with them … a scent that he associated with Dutch.

 _Hmmm_.  Her response did not really answer his question nor abate his growing concern, “Alright.  It was not my intention to disappoint you.”

They sat in silence for a moment until she finally spoke, disappointment thick in her fragile and broken little voice, “O.K., so … I know that what happens in the cabin stays in the cabin but … I just … I don’t know … I just didn’t think she was _your type_.”

“ _My type?_ ”  He asked, but she was still speaking.

“I mean, I guess that’s not true … she’s everyone’s type.”

“Wait, _my type_?”  He questioned again, but she was _still_ speaking, mostly to herself it seemed.

“But I just didn’t think … I don’t know … I guess I just didn’t think.  I’m … it’s O.K.”

Realization hit him.   _Did she think that they …_

“I have no right–”

“What are you assuming happened?”  He was almost insulted by her assumption suddenly.  With _that_ woman?

“I … What do you mean?  I heard–”

“ ** _No_**.”

“What?”

“No.  **_That_** did not happen.”

“It sounded like–”

“No.  Absolutely not.”  He shook his head back and forth in denial, “While I did threaten to _kill_ her, there was _nothing_ _else_.”

“Oh.”  She was almost in disbelief, but he detected a hint of relief which made him smile slightly.

“Would you _care_?”  She offered no response and his grin widened, nudging her yet again, “Were you … _jealous_?”

“ _No_.”

“Because, it seems as if–”

“ ** _No_**.”  He could tell from her tone that he was _embarrassing_ her and he _loved_ it.

“It is alright.  I have experienced _jealousy_ very recently myself–”

“Quinlan.”  Her voice was imbued with obvious bashfulness, “I wasn’t _jealous_.   **Stop**.”

They were both quiet now and the air was full of thick tension as he considered what to say next.  He was enjoying making her squirm in .  He smiled even wider, nudging her with his shoulder gently again, “Did you really think there was _time_ for **_that_** anyways?”

“I … I don’t know how long you …”  She stuttered as his question obviously flustered her and he interrupted with a whisper.

“Rest assured … I _will_ require _much more_ time than that.”

Finally she turned towards him fully, sheer shock expressed on her face as he saw the color rush to her cheeks and this was the first time he saw the black streak that trailed down her left cheeks where her tears had trailed.

“What … “  His brows furrowed, “ _What is on your face?_ ”  He flared his nostrils at her visage as she attempted to shriek back and hide it from him immediately, turning away and towards the water again as she began to rub her cheek with the back of her hand.

“ _Nothing_ … it’s _nothing_.”

The question was entirely rhetorical, as he _knew_ exactly what was on her face.  He smelled _this_ on Dutch’s face every day.  Is this what she was in the bathroom doing?  Painting her face?!  The fact that she had felt the need to do this infuriated him slightly, as he knew it was brought about by the _Doctor_ ’s presence.

He grabbed her chin with his right hand, turning her face back to him as he began to wipe at her with his left thumb and she protested greatly with grunts, pushing against his hands.

“Quinlan, _STOP THAT!_ ”  She demanded and tried to pull away from him but he kept going until he had removed the streak entirely.  He took a quick survey of her face while she tried to pull her chin away and he saw the missing hairs and the paint that was added to her eyebrows.

“Why are you painting yourself?!”  He spat at her while he gripped her chin tighter and tried to rub the makeup from her brows now forcefully.

“ _QUINLAN, STOP IT!  NNNNNNN!!!_ ”  That last part wasn’t even a word that he could discern, it was just a _grunt_ of displeasure.

“You do NOT need this.”  He was harsh as he worked his thumb against her face, attempting to cleanse it, but the thick paste was not relenting under his rubbing.  Perhaps with moisture?  He licked his right thumb and reached to try again and absolutely horror flew across her face.

“NO!, _GRRRRRR_. _I’m not a child!_ ”  Now it was a _growl_ of annoyance.

“Yet you paint your face like one!  You wish to look like a _clown_ , like Miss Velders?”  He disliked the amount of makeup that Dutch caked onto her face every day.  He thought she might be quite pretty underneath it all, but he’d never seen her without it.  He regretted not killing that woman even more now.

“No, _NNNNNNN, GRRRRRR_.”  The brown paste was underneath the hair and though he rubbed at it, it was not relenting to his glove and he growled.  She fought him fiercely until she finally gave in and sat still, her shoulders relaxing in sad compliance.  Her next words were laced with defeat and sorrow, “You … you think I look like a _clown_?”

Quinlan released her at once, surrendering to his own defeat, “No … that is not what I meant–”

His pending sentence was cut short as gunshots rang out in the distance.  They were very distant, but they heard them clearly, popping several miles away directly in front of them, coming from the other side of the lake.  _North._

“Uh oh.”

“Go inside.”  He stood, pulling her up with him.

“But–”

“Inside NOW.”  This was not a discussion, “I will investigate.”  He watched her sprint back to the cabin and shut the door. He heard it lock before he turned back to the direction of the conflict.

 _Damn_.


	110. Coincidence?

## 

**[@quinlantheinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mIgdTY5_MuX8F9pHO8C3SeQ) pointed something out to me today.  Thank you for this!**

## 

**Here is the panel from the last Mister Quinlan comic that just came out two weeks ago:**

* * *

## 

**At the end, he is describing his home that he shares with Tasa, in the Roman Countryside:**

* * *

* * *

## 

**Looks like a very nice place.  Lets look closer.**

* * *

* * *

## 

**Wait a minute … what is that?!**

* * *

#  **ಠ▃ಠ**

## 

[Dragonfly Eyes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/19426441)


	111. Interlude 12 - The Children of Fornication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a TON of fun researching this Interlude, but it took me three days to write it, instead of the usual _one_ , so I apologize for the delay. I knew where I wanted to go with it, having already done quite a bit of research on these topics, but when I dove into the mythology, there were more parallels than I realized.
> 
> The first part of this Interlude serves as a companion to [Chapter 10, Part 6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/20175619), which details that there are seventeen types of Divine Beings, and therefore, seventeen (eighteen if you count the _Corrupted Demiarc_ ) types of hybrids. I started to research this spanning _many religions_. Assyrian and Sumerian mythology proved to be extremely useful in the historical roots of angels from Christianity, Judaism and Islam.
> 
> I’d say 90% or more is rooted in actual myth. As in Dragons, Hydras and Phoenixes are linked to Seraphim. And Griffins and Sphinxes are linked to Cherubim.
> 
> I hope you are still enjoying my little world of The Strain. Enjoy!
> 
> (◠‿◠✿)ノ

## The Children of Fornication

 

 

In the beginning, _many celestial beings_ were created.  Beings other than Man and as stated in the _Lumen_ , there were seventeen total.

 _The First_ numbered _five_ , but later became _four_ and then _three_.  Created and imbued with power like none other.  Each burned with their _own_ fountain of divinity.  Together they formed the basis of _The Nexus_ , becoming the source of its unending divine influence for those who came after.  They surrounded the Throne of the Creator as a [tetramorph](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tetramorph).  Ozyrel to the right, Michael to the left, Gabriel in the front, and Raphael in the back.

All those that met creation after these [Hayyoth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Living_creatures_\(Bible\)) were but _shadows_ , sharing only fragments of their abilities and borrowing only mere pieces of potential from them.   _The First_ were **_everything_** the rest were, but the rest were only remnants of _The First_.

Following them, sixteen were then created…

The [ Ophanim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ophanim) were _The Many-eyed Ones._

The [Erelim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Er%27el) were _The Courageous._

The [ Hashmallim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hashmal) were _The Glowing Ones._

The[ Seraphim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seraph) were _The Burning Ones, The Winged Ones, The_ [ _Feathered Serpents_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feathered_Serpent) _,_ who served as their own tetramorph to the elements. 

> The [ Ikisat ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seraph) held domain over the sky.  Man came to know them as _Dragons_.
> 
> The [ Bennu ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bennu) commanded power over the fire.  Man came to know them as _Phoenixes_.
> 
> The [ Chalkydri ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seraph) ruled the waters.  Man came to know them as _Hydras_.
> 
> The [ Regulus ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilisk) preferred the Earth beneath them.  Man came to know them as _Basilisks_.

The [ Malakim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jewish_angelic_hierarchy) were _The Messengers_ .  They were the charges of **_Raphael_ **.

The [ Elohim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elohim) were _The Second._ These were the next brood of Archangels born when _five_ became _four_ .  Their power was greatly restricted and they only numbered _Four:_ [ Uriel ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uriel) , [ Raguel ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raguel_%28angel%29) , [ Remiel ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Remiel) , and [ Sariel](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sariel) .  So the total finally became [ seven ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Archangels) .  And of the new sons born, Uriel was chosen to step forward and replace Michael at the [ Left ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angels_in_Judaism), as Michael was forced to step into Ozyrel’s vacant position at the Right.

The [ Bene Elohim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sons_of_God) were _The_ [ _Sons of God_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sons_of_God) , _The_ [ _Grigori_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watcher_\(angel\)#Grigori) _, The_ [ _Watchers_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Watcher_\(angel\)) _._  They were lead by **_Michael_ ** and their numbers were great.  Charged to _watch_ and _guard_ man, they venture to the Earthly realm most often, and thus they were exposed to corruption and the temptation of pleasures more than any other.

The [Cherubim](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cherub) were also known as _The_ [_Lamassu_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lamassu).  They were _not_ the fat children of modern lore.  They were entities of unbelievable strength and power, barren of human emotion, who serve the Throne of God directly.  Of the Cherubim, there were _two_ kinds.  Man has come to know them as the [_Sphinxes_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sphinx) _and the_[ _Griffins_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Griffin) _._  They were both the charges of **_Gabriel_**.

Lastly, the [ Eshim ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ishim_\(angel\)) were _The Flames,_ or as Man came to know them _The_ [ _Djinn_ ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jinn) _._  They were the most like Man, given full reign of their emotion and soul but possessing almost no true divine power.  Their connection to _the Nexus_ was by far the weakest.  Where Man was created from water and earth, the Djinn were made from fire and air.  Of these, though long forgotten and now in hiding, there were _four_ kinds: 

> The [ Marid ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marid) were _The Rebellious._
> 
> The[ Ifrit](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ifrit) were _The Strong._
> 
> The[ Shaitan](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaitan) were _The Mischievous._
> 
> The[ Ghul](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ghoul) were _The Seizers._

And so, there were _seventeen_ types of divine creations.  Beings imbued with divinity and who possessed _The Connection_ with each other _,_ and those who shared it were called _Bound_ .  Attached and reassured, this made them able to function as _one_ , allowing them to borrow, take, _and_ recharge divine power from each other, as their joint consciousness hummed in _near_ perfect unison within _The Nexus_ .  From the moment that they _sparked_ into existence, this was simply _their very nature_.

To be _detached_ from this _Nexus_ is to _Fall_ from it.  This severing is the worst punishment imaginable to one who is _Bound_ .  Before the rebellion of the Sons of God, the _only_ one to understand this torture was **_Lucifer_ ** and the _madness_ that it inflicted upon him was _severe_ .  All watched in quiet sorrow as the once _great_ and _bright_ beauty was crippled by lunacy.

In the [ Antediluvian ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antediluvian) age, the time before the first flood, all creatures of divinity flourished together in a period of enlightenment and acceptance beside Man.  It was in this peace that the Creator took the _first leave_ and after hundreds of years of solitude, doubt rumbled among some of its creations.

[Samyaza](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samyaza), who commanded the highest rank of _The Watchers_ , Michael’s most trusted general and loyal friend, led a revolution against the rule of _The First_.  Two hundred Grigori and thousands of Djinn rose up but found victory was impossible as they broke themselves against the Army of Heaven.  Ultimately losing the war, they sought refuge on Earth and Michael turned a blind eye to his men.

There they _hid_.

     There they _watched_.

          There they _guarded_.

              _But_ … there they learned how to _hunger_.

The daughters of Man were beautiful and kind; they did not _judge_ them, they did not _command_ them and in them they found something they hungered for deeply.  In them, they found _companionship_ and **_love_**.  For this, they were _starved_ and the longer they stayed, the more the Earthly need grew within them.

It was not until the Children of Fornication were born and grew in frightening numbers that Michael realized the danger only too late.  They were smarter, stronger, bigger, and far more ruthless than their human brethren, dominating and even feasting up them.  They were superior in any and **_every_** _single way._

Another war was simply …

##      Inevitable.

When the Creator returned, justice was swift and _merciless_.  The world was purged, cleansed and eventually renewed.  Gabriel was charged with the destruction of the _children_ , _The Giants_.  Not even their souls allowed to continue in any _realm_.  They were snuffed from existence entirely, their divinity stripped, their connection severed, their souls extinguished and their husks tossed into the _Lake of Fire_.

But, none suffered like _Michael_ suffered.  The Creator charged him with the punishment of _his_ men, _his_ friends, _his_ littlest brothers.  For the first time in his existence, he argued against this command, pleading for mercy, begging for forgiveness, but as the Creator explained to him, there could be _none_ , even though _they both wished it_.

For the _Grigori_ were corrupted deeper than could be healed.  Their souls had been perverted, but not by their actions, not by the fornication itself, and not for simply _knowing_ the pleasures of the flesh.   The Fornicators had tasted the emotion carried by the human soul and, as just simple _Grigori_ , they were not equipped to handle the complexity of it.  For this, there was _no cure_.  Of this, they could _not_ be cleansed. 

He was commanded to [bind](https://www.ccel.org/c/charles/otpseudepig/enoch/ENOCH_1.HTM), in isolation, Samyaza and all those who had followed him for seventy generations until the day of their judgement … until the day of their destruction in the [Lake of Fire](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_of_fire).  In the end, Michael conceded and accepted that the punishment needed to be harsh, so that they would not lose others to this _sickness_. 

And after 8400 years of punishment, of imprisonment and prolonged madness, _disconnected_ from everyone they had ever known, Michael pulled them from their cells, one at a time and extinguished them in the _spring of 1785_ as he had been told to … long before the Creator took the **_second leave_**.

He did as he had been told … he _always_ followed orders.

_Until one day … he didn’t._

_Until one day … he **couldn’t.**_

 

* * *

He assumed everyone had felt the quake.  That distinct shudder of the spark when a new divine being came into existence and Michael closed his eyes, lowering his head as he shook it.

_Another one._

This was likely just another Djinn child.  They were powerless but forbidden nonetheless.  There had been no true _abominations_ born in over seventeen hundred years.

Raphael was at his door immediately, as he knew he would be.  He was more sensitive than the rest and he usually felt the _spark_ before even Michael could.

“I will take care of it.”  He said as he grabbed the staff and Raphael reached for him as he attempted to push his little brother from the room.

“Take care of what?”

“There has been a spark.” Odd.  He was not here about the _spark_.

Raphael seemed genuinely confused by the statement, “Brother … let the **_Seven_** deal with it.  Is _this_ not what the Treaty–”

“ _I will deal with it_.  It is likely just another Djinn.”  Michael just wanted to get up and make himself useful.  His depression had been absolute since …

“I _worry_ for you, Brother.  Since the _rebirthing_ of the _Prophet_ , you have been distant.  You have been–”

“Please, I must go and deal with _this_ now.”  Michael knew he had been distant lately and he had not returned to Earth in some time.  How long exactly, he wasn’t entirely sure.  He ushered his little brother away before he prepared himself for the journey, clasping his sword in place and taking the staff in hand as he tried to push the memory of his last visit from his mind.  He wondered if he should check on her, but dismissed the thought.

##  **_Leave it be._ **

When he had returned from Earth the last time, returned from the side of the river … from her arms and her warmth, _Two Rivers_ had been waiting and Michael could read from his face that he _already knew_ what had occurred.  The shame that encompassed Michael because of it was clear. 

> “You said that you would _protect_ my children.”  His eyes were full of tears and his heart overflowing with disappointment.
> 
> “I … I’m sorry, _my friend_.”  He had no words and _that_ day he lost **Deganawida** forever as the _Prophet_ decided to return to Earth, to be _reborn_ and to forget everything that he was.  
> 
> He remembered his final words to him, eerie and telling.
> 
> “ _The Great Spirit_ told me _this_ would happen, it told me that you would _betray_ me.  I did not see it before … how could I have been so blind?   ** _You have been the white serpent all along_**.”
> 
> He watched, helpless, as _Two Rivers_ entered the _pool of rebirth_ and he cried as the waters washed everything that the _Prophet_ had been away, everything that he knew and everything that he was, as his soul was carried back to Earth.

He deserved _this_.  For everything that he had done, he felt like he deserved all of _this_.   _Lucifer, Ozyrel, Samyaza, Deganawida_ and _… **her**._

But now he was called on yet again to cleanse the world, to burn two souls from existence and he held the staff as he focused on the _spark_ , on that very, very tiny voice that had entered into the _Nexus_.

When he stepped forward into the wooden cabin, there was a fire burning merrily in the hearth next to the bassinet, but no one was immediately present though he heard footsteps outside accompanied with the sound of metal hitting metal as water was pumped into a container.

 _This_ caught Michael off guard immediately, as he approached the crib, drawing his sword before he bent to peer within.  The _spark_ took years to build within the Earthly [husks](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qliphoth) of new divine beings and the youngest that he had _ever_ cleansed had been five years of age.  As he looked down on the child within and it peered back up to him with a spotted face, deep green eyes and a tuft of golden hair, a wave of nausea spread through him.

He did not think that he could suffocate, but his lungs refused to breath and he realized this is what it must feel like to drown.  Realization struck him deep in his stomach and he felt the strength of his legs begin to buckle the moment before he heard her voice from behind.

“I was _sure_ I would never see you again.”

Michael could not turn to face her; he stood frozen and almost incapable of reacting to the situation as it had unfolded.  He understood why he had felt the _spark_ before Raphael, before all _of them_.  It was the connection that he was already feeling with _his_ own progeny.  It was _The Corruption_.

_Oh god … What had he done?_

No.

_No._

___ **No.** _

**_NO. NO. NO._ **

She came around him and picked the child up, smiling at him before she saw the sword gripped tightly in his other hand.

“He is–”  She started but Michael finished.

“Mine.  He’s … _mine_ … ”

“Would you hold him?”  She asked as she rocked the silent child back and forth, cradling it in her arms and the boy smiled at him with glee. 

“No, _Hathų_ … I can’t.”  What could he say right now?  He looked at both of them and her smile was as big as the child’s.   _Oh no._

She stared back down to his sword, “Why not?”

“ _Hathų_ … “

He had never said her name so many times before and he felt it might be all he was capable of right now.  He could read the fear that was building within her chest, as her heart pounded and she read the look on his face clearly.  She always knew how to read him.  He knew, other than Ozyrel himself, there were none that understood him as well as she did.

Her smile faded, “Then why have you come here?”

“ … “

Backing away from the crib, she looked down at the sword again and repeated, “ _Why have you come here?!_ ”

“ _Hathų_ … He … “  Michael turned to his retreating love, “He can’t be allowed to _live_.”

There were many moments in Michael’s long life that were so painful that they had been seared into place inside of his mind.

He remembered the look on _Lucifer_ ’s face as his three brothers held him down and Michael burned the connection from his soul.

He remembered the look on _Ozyrel_ ’s face while Uriel held Michael back as Gabriel and Raphael cut him down.

He remembered the look on _Samyaza_ ’s face when he pulled him from his cell and obliterated his very spirit.

And he would remember the look on _Hathų_ ’s face when he told her he must kill their child … _his_ child.  It was a combination of rage, disappointment, and hate.  In this moment, she **_hated_** him.

“He _will_ live.  And he will flourish.”  She countered.

He turned to her fully now, tightening his grip on the handle of his blade, “An abomination cannot be suffered to _exist_.”

“He is _not_ an abomination.”  She scoffed, “He is a miracle.”

“ _Hathų_ …”

“He was given to us by _The Great Spirit._ ”

“No, he was given to _you_ by **_our_** weakness.”  Michael hissed at her tearful face.  No, he would not blame her.   _This_ was no one’s fault but _his_.  “I’m sorry.”

 _Hathų_ placed the baby back in the crib and knocked the sword from his hand, not meeting any resistance from him as it fell to the ground with a thud, “Leave now and never come back.”  She growled to him.

“You don’t have to bear witness to this.”  He offered her, resisting every fiber in his being that wished to reach out to and touch her again.

“You cannot.  You have made a promise.”  She was angry, but still calm.

“I have a duty–”

“You promised **Deganawida**.  You gave your word.”  Her eyes were fierce.  There were few things more important to Michael than his word, than his promise, but he had already broken that, had he not?

“This isn’t the end.  You can … _will_ … have more children.  This isn’t–”

“You cannot force that!”  She spat at him.  Negotiation was over, now she would try another tactic.  “I promise you I will have _no other children_.”  She stated.

“ _Hathų_!”  He gawked at her, “You _will_ have more children.”

“YOU CANNOT FORCE THAT!”  She spat again.

“ _So be it then._ ”  He would not continue this childish argument with her.  The line of the _Prophet_ would die and it would be all his fault, he was realizing, as many things were.

“Please.”  Now it was sadness, now she pleaded with him, “You never have to see him again … you never have to see me again … Just leave and do not return.  I will take him far away–” 

“ _Never see you again?_  Why would you think I could ever _want_ that!?”  His emotions, so bitter and painful and raw, scratched inside him to be released.  He knew he had been feeling … _different_.

“If you take him from me, I _promise_ it!”  She screamed now, her anger had returned.

“ _Hathų_ ”  He reached for her and she pulled her arm out of his grasp completely, huffing away towards the table, “You realize that is _simply not true_.”  He would see her when she died.

But when she turned, he saw the reason she had moved to the table and the object in her hand as she lifted it to her own throat.  Holding the blade against her skin, she threatened him, “I _know_ how to make it true.  You told me how to make it **TRUE**.”

“ _Hathų_!”  He screamed as he was before her, pulling the knife from her hand as she fought him to keep it, “ ** _STOP THIS._** ”

“You cannot, NO … NO!”  He ripped it from her grip and tossed it across the room as he reached out for her and she pulled away in utter disgust.

“I won’t let you.”  He stated.

“You cannot watch me every moment, _Great Thunder._ ”  He found her beautiful all the time, but especially the times that she was being the most defiant, and though her face was flooded with tears, he found her striking still.

_God … what had happened to him?_

“It’s beneath you to act this way.”  He shook his head towards her.

“ _This way_?  Do you not understand what you threaten me with?  Do you not?”

“I understand … more than you can real–”

“NO.  If you ‘ _understood_ ’, then you would _not_ even think it possible!”  He could offer nothing at this and she continued, “He is all I have now.  My people are dead and I have been cast out _because of him_.”  She pointed to the child, “You did not return and **Deganawida** does not speak anymore.”

“He … He will never speak again.  He has returned to the sea of souls … to be reborn.”

Her jaw was agape with the information, “Why?  Why would he leave me?”

“He left _us_ _both_.  You know _why_.”

Her tears flowed now and she made no attempt to hold them back, “Then I am truly alone now.”

Michael moved to look back into the crib and _Hathų_ placed herself between them, calmness in her voice again, “If you take him from me, I _promise_ you will never see me again.  I will assure it.  If you take him, **Deganawida** ’s line is ended and you will have broken your oath.  But perhaps it did not mean that much to you to begin with … _Great Thunder_.”  The inflection on his title was painful to his ears.

“I … “ he stuttered at her hate, at her loathing, “It is _not_ that simple.  If I don’t do this, then _others_ will.  Others _will_ come for him.  Eventually they _will_ feel him.  Don’t you see?  This isn’t my choice, _Hathų_.   ** _This is our LAW_**.”

“TO HELL WITH YOUR LAW!”  After this outburst, something within her changed and she returned to the table, taking a solemn seat as she spoke, “I know you will do whatever you _want_.  I cannot stop you.  No one can stop you.  But he was given to us by _The Great Spirit_.  I dreamed it.”

Michael stood frozen as he look at her, trying to determine if she was lying, but he assumed so, “No.  This is forbidden.  The Creator would not have done this … _to me_.”

“It wants this child to live.  I promise you this.  To hell with your laws.  They are wrong, they are–”

“They are the LAWS of _The Great Spirit_ itself!  They are **_INFALLIBLE_**!”  He screamed to her, desperate for her to understand there was little that he could offer her.  Mercy, when it came to _this_ , was not allowed.

“Nothing is infallible.  Even gods made mistakes, don’t they, _Great Thunder_?”  She stated clearly and cleverly.

He gazed upon the child now as he reached out to poke his son and the child reached for his finger only to be too slow before he pulled it out of his reach, “They will feel him.   _They will come for him_.”  Even if he did not do this, someone would.

“If you will take him now, then take me as well.  I wish to go with him.  There will be no other children.  He is my _heart_ and I will not live without him.”  She was defeated.

Michael turned and furrowed his brow to her, almost unable to form the words that trailed from his lips next.  “He _cannot_ be suffered to **_exist_**.”  The revelation of his words on her face was heartbreaking to him.  She had thought he was to just kill the child, but this _punishment_ , this …   

“ _His spirit?_ ”  She stuttered meekly, still in disbelief.

“It must be _extinguished_.”  He looked back and poked the child again but this time, the boy grabbed onto his finger with impressive speed, causing him to smile.

 _Hehehe.  Yes, you are **fast** , aren’t you?_

He had felt himself changing for some time now.  He had been feeling it and now he understood _why_ the corruption of the _Grigori_ could not be forgiven.  If this was what it was, this deep … feeling … It was _intoxicating_.  Was this what humans felt when they felt **_love_**?  This was, in and of itself, maddeningly suffocating and Michael felt as if he could not breath again.

“They will come for him … and then … _they will come for **me**._ ”  He repeated, almost trying to convince himself.  “I will be _punished_ for him.  I will … _Fall_ for _this_.”

“Can we …”  The slow reality of him not being in control of this was setting in finally, “ _Hide_ him?”  She asked.

“They would find him.  They would … _feel_ him.”  Michael stared at the little hand that gripped his finger and he looked down onto his own hand, to his ring and he was silent for a moment.  “I can … _remove him_.”  Even the thought of this was painful for him to mention.  He knew what detachment for any divine entity meant.

“ _Remove him?_ ”  She posed, “Remove him from _what_?”

“From … _us_ … my kind.  I can take … “ his voice quaked with uncertainty, “I can strip him of his divine power.”

“What would that do to him?”  She asked hopefully.

“I don’t know.  There has never been _anything_ like him before.”  The whispers in Heaven had called this possibility _The Demiarch … The **Most** Feared_.

“But he would live?  You would let him live?”

He stared into his own green eyes, “But … I’m not sure what kind of life it would be.”

Divine beings could not live when their divinity was entirely removed for it was _all they were_ , but he had seen _the Giants_ survive _this_ , ever so briefly before they were extinguished fully.

He stared at his ring and the possibilities that abounded from it.

_Diminish him?_

Take _all_ divinity from him and leave him as a husk as they had done to the Children of Fornication.  Without divinity, he would have no power, no connection.  The others wouldn’t find him, he would simply never _spark_ to them.

But even this might not even work, as it hadn’t on _Lucifer_.  He was **_Hayyoth_** and as such his own internal fountain of divine power was unending.  Would a _Demiarch_ be the same?

If it _did_ work, he would not just be a shell, he still possessed a _human soul_.  He would just be a Man.  He would _live_ , but would he be mad?  Would disconnection drive him insane like it had both of _his brothers_?

_Would he do **this**?  Would he **fell** his own son?  _

     **_Would it be possible madness or certain oblivion?_**

There was simply no choice between the two.  He bent, whispering the _Enochian_ word for _Diminish_ into his ring, “ _Peredazore_ ” and it changed and burned with a rectangular amber glyph.  He watched the ember color dance in his son’s eyes as he reached down and pulled his tiny hand up, placing the ring against the inside of his wrist as he whispered again, infusing the action with power, “ _Peredazore_.”

The baby cried as his flesh was burned, but he held the ring in place.  He could feel her behind him, pulling at his arm as the child wailed, “ _You are hurting him!_ ” But he remained, holding it there until he felt it all burn away entirely, until he felt the moment of disconnect as that tiny voice snapped away from him forever.  He pulled back and released his tiny wrist.

Pushing Michael to the side, she picked up the child and cooed it, but the pain had been intense and the boy was not appeased by his mother’s rocking.

“It’s done.”  He said and walked to the table, sitting down in the chair as he stared at his ring, watching it cool back down to a silver color.

“What is done?  What have you done?!”

“It’s done.  I’ve … _hidden_ him.”  His voice seemed to soothe the child, and the crying abated abruptly.

“Then he will _live_?  You will allow him to _exist_?”

“Yes.”  What existence he may have was entirely a mystery at this point.

“Thank you.”   _Hathų_ said with joy.

His eyes filled with tears and his voice cracked as he spoke to her.  “Don’t thank me.  I’ve no idea what it will do to him.  I’ve no idea what–”

“He will live.”  She stated firmly.

“As what though?”

“It does not matter.  He will _exist_.  To _exist_ is the greatest gift that the _Spirit_ affords us.”

She carried the child to him and offered him to hold and Michael shook his head, trying to push the child away, “I should go now.”

She scoffed at his rebuff, “He is yours.  You should know what it is like to hold him.”  Pushing the boy into his chest, he finally complied and wrapped his arms around the _tiny creation_ of his and a smile broaden his face as he repeated that word in his mind.

_My creation._

_**My** creation._

He looked upon the child carefully and he could see that baby was slightly changed.  The spots were nearly gone … _nearly_.  His eyes were now a duller green, almost gray and his hair was now ashen in color.

“What … “  He was almost too scared to speak, “What’s his name?”

 _Hathų_ smiled so beautifully as she spoke to him and he realized he _loved_ her.  In fact, he had _loved_ her for some time, even before this child had infected his heart, “ I would have preferred to call him _Hinon_ , after his father.  But I did not give him a native name because he does not look it, and I wished him to have a good life among the _new people of the land_.  So, I chose a name from them, one that is powerful to them.”

Michael touched the little nose and the boy smiled, trying to catch his finger again.  He was not fast anymore, but he let him catch his finger anyways.  “A powerful name?”

“Yes, I thought it fitting.   _He who is like god_ …” This caused Michael to look up to her quickly before the _Prophet_ finished her sentence, “His name is **_Michael_**.” 


	112. 16.1 - Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #### Just a reminder for the dialogue in this chapter...
> 
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> #### 
> 
> **“Sanctimonious hypocritical prick!!!”**
> 
> #### 
> 
> **– Dutch, The Strain, 3x10**
> 
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“ _Please go away._  I don’t need your **_I told you so_** right now!”  Dutch screamed back to Fet fiercely while he followed her deeper into the trees as she attempted to put as much distance between her and that _damn_ Doctor as possible.  She pulled her arms in as close to her body as possible, trying to retain her quickly dispersing body heat, as she shivered in the frigid cold.  She’d left in such a hurry she’d completely forgotten her jacket.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”  He offered as he struggled to catch up to her, tripping over a log as he went, tumbling down to his knees in the thick soot of the forest floor.

“God damn it, _Fet_!”  She reeled around to help him up, “ _You big oaf!_ ”

“Sorry … I didn’t see it …” He pouted as she helped him back to his feet and he kicked the log in annoyed anger, “It’s kinda dark out here, ya know.”

“ _No. No. **I’m sorry**._  I just … “ She paused and crossed her arms again, shielding her bare skin from the cold wind, “I just want to be alone.”  She kicked the log once before she finally huffed herself down onto it in defeat.

“You shouldn’t be alone out here.”  He stated again as he peeled his oversized jacket off and encompassed her small frame with it before taking a seat next to her.  She was silent and he took the opportunity to speak again, “He wasn’t right for you anyway.  Yeah?”

Dutch laughed slightly as she stared into the dirt, “Actually, he probably was.  I deserved _this_.”

“No, you didn’t.”  He stated plainly.

“Yeah, I kinda do.  You of all people should understand that … ”

He furrowed his nose to her, “Understand what?”

“After what I did … to you … I kinda deserved _this_ … ”

“ _Psh_.” He waved his hand in the air, “He’s a prick.  He’s always been a _prick_.”

“A **_sanctimonious hypocritical prick_**?”  She chuckled as her mood started to lighten already with his words.  _Damn this man._  He could make _any_ situation better for her just by smiling.  Dutch had never realized until this very moment how much power _he_ commanded over her.   _God it was terrifying._

Had Nikki _ever_ held this much sway over her?  Could Nikki have fixed her mood so very easily and without even really trying?   _No_.  Nikki would have made it about her.  Nikki would have **_taken_** from _Dutch_ , whereas all _Vasiliy_ could do was _give_ to her.  It was his _nature_ to just _give_ …

She wasn’t mad at _Ephraim_.  Not at all, in fact it was the complete opposite.  She was so very relieved as she stared into Fet’s hairy face.  _How could she have been so fucking dumb?_

“Nah … _that’s **me**_ , right?”  He smiled at her, giving her his best set of dimples as she returned the favor back to him with regretful eyes.

“Nah … You aren’t so bad, love.”  She couldn’t stop smiling at him.  God damn she missed his smile so very much.  “You never were.  I was the _prick_ , remember?”

Fet grinned even wider as he nudged her shoulder slightly with his, “Ya know … I forgave ya for dat a long time ago, yeah?”

Dutch looked up into his big brown eyes as he shivered in the cold and she moved quickly before he could finish his next sentence pressing her lips to his, “I never stopped lovin–”

Her heart raced in her chest and she thought it might explode as she mounted the big man on the log, desperate to kiss him quickly before he could push her away, but he returned her clumsy starving gropes.  He clutched at her hips, pulling her body closer to him and running his hands up her sides as he grabbed her breasts.  The uncontrollable passion overwhelmed them both simultaneously as they groaned lowly into each other in harmony.  They’d been holding this in for _so very fucking long_.

Dutch’s eagerness even overwhelmed the log as it creaked underneath them and snapped in half, sending the interlocked couple onto the ground with its collapse, but they missed no beats in their mission as they continued to grope and peel each other’s clothes off.

Her hands hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants as she felt panicked and rushed.  She needed to touch him again, as fast as possible, in case he changed his mind.  She needed to touch him again and as she reached inside, she felt his entire body tense with her grip on him.

“ _Ah damn_.”  He purred into her as he rubbed his forehead against hers and she smiled, “ _God damn I missed you …_ ”

“Me–” Her pending sentence was cut short as gunshots rang out in the distance.  They both turned in unison towards the sounds.

“ _Shit_.”

 

* * *

 

When Dawn burst through the door, everyone within shifted uncomfortably.

“What’s up Shortie?”  Gus swung around.

“Gun fire.”  She locked the door behind her before she turned and surveyed the room, “Where’s Dutch and Fet?”

“Outside.”  Ephraim said as he stood, moving towards the exit, “I’ll find her … _erm … them_.”

Gus was moving for his jacket as well and Dawn attempted to halt him, “Quinlan said too–”

> “You need to go.”  Hathų said.

She hadn’t heard the woman in days and now suddenly …

“Go where?”

“You talkin’ to me?”  Gus looked shocked, pointing to himself and Dawn waved a hand at him, shushing him quickly as Ephraim stopped moving at once, looking back to her and waiting as the bedroom door creaked open and an unhappy Rubinstein stepped out to investigate the sudden commotion.

> “To the Gladiator.   _You must hurry_.”

“What is–”  Rubinstein started to say.

“He said to wait here.”  Dawn argued.

> Hathų voice was obviously full of minor panic, “When have you ever _just done_ what you are told?!”

_Good point._  Dawn moved to grab a weapon from the bag, slipping the baton into the back pocket of her jeans and fishing around for a good pistol.

“ _What are you doing?_  He said to stay here.”  Ephraim asked and Gus moved to grab a weapon as well.  He could take a hint quickly.

“What’s going on?”  Rubinstein meekly asked, wrapping her robe around her body tightly.  Her demeanour was completely changed and her eyes were puffy and red.

“I need to go apparently … _now_.”

“If he said to stay put?”  Gus offered, but he was already arming himself.

> “Hurry.  Take a vehicle.  It’s too far to make it in time on foot.”

Dawn checked the gun’s ammunition, sliding the magazine out and then back in again.  She was definitely getting more comfortable handling firearms.  She asked, “Is _he_ in _danger_?”

> “No, I fear _they_ are.  They _may_ attempt to kill him.”

_“Who is **they**?!?”_

> _**“The Keepers of the Great Fire.”** _

 

* * *

 

> _Cuz now I’m pushing forward and nobody dare oppose_
> 
> _Now I’m moving faster while that ticking clock slows_
> 
> _And now I’m climbing higher like the ground can’t hold_

Quinlan moved rapidly in the direction of the battle, as he crossed the distance of miles in a matter of minutes.  He came to a sharp edge of a small cliff that overlooked some kind of valley filled with mostly dead or dying vegetation and he peered down into it.  What he saw within amazed even _him_.

There were thousands of strigoi moving through the area, at least ten [cohorts](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FCohort_%28military_unit%29&t=M2VhYTYzOWJmNzEzMjI4MTFhYmNjMzhhOWNjMzY1YmY5ZTgwYjg3MixnN3BaMFJkWQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156809050483%2Fchapter-16-fruition&m=1), shuffling through the clearing below and there were men down below in the valley, running away from of the mob as they pursued, turning back and shooting at them randomly.  As Quinlan looked around, he noticed there were also men on the rocks and on the cliffs on either side.

Quinlan _blinked_.   _Men_?  They _looked_ like men, but they did not _move_ like _men, not entirely_.  He had never seen anything like what he was witnessing, not even in all of his long years.  These weren’t men, not entirely at least.  They were not as fast as he was, but they were easily as nimble, for he saw the _nimble-men_ scale the edges of the cliff with ease, climbing almost entirely vertically.

The _men_ who ran ahead of the horde were screaming a war cry of some kind and they ran ahead with thunderous steps, occasionally coming down on all fours as they ran.  They were moving almost like a canine.  He watched in silent awe as they purposefully pulled their speed back and allowed the strigoi to gain on them, only to burst and get ahead of them again.

Quinlan smiled as he understood at once.  They were _luring_ them into the area below.  He noted the layout of the valley below was quite ideal for herding his _Father_ ’s cattle into.  This had been a lake at one point and a river had fed it on both sides, but both of which were now dry.  The river had carved out the area from the surrounding rock and therefore it had only two points of entry.

He watched in silent fascination as the last of the strigoi army entered the valley in mad pursuit and the _man_ directly opposite of the valley from him, atop the cliff, moved to a set of large rocks, wedging himself at each of their bases as he grunted and heaved, using his back and shoulders against it and his legs flexed impressively as he pushed the massive boulder and it fell down and partially covered the strigoi’s possible exit.  He moved to the next big rock and repeated the action completely sealing the exit.

No, these were not _men_ , those rocks would be difficult even for _him_ to move.

He watched as the _strong man_ began a sprint for _his_ side of the valley and he shifted his attention to the opening closest him as he spied another man attempting to push a similar boulder down into the remaining gap in the cliff wall.

Quinlan fought the growing excitement in his core to leap down and join the fight below.  He knew it would be better if the _Master_ caught no of glimpse of him, but he wished deeply to battle beside them right now, _whatever_ they were.  His heartbeat raced with the thrill of it all and he resisted the urge of drawing his sword.

He had absolutely no intention of disturbing their plans until he heard the _strong man_ slip as the boulder rolled backward instead of forward and came crushing down on the man’s foot causing him to scream out as he became pinned under its crushing weight.  Quinlan watched the other _strong man_ make his way, running as fast as his legs could carry him, coming down onto all fours and pushing himself even faster as he attempted to cross the distance of the valley, but Quinlan knew it would not be in time.

The timing was now off as the _wolf-men_ below were nearly out of space to run.  They had intended to leap free and allow the strigoi smashed themselves against the newly closed exit, but this was no longer possible.  The _nimble-men_ who scaled the cliff walls had begun to scream words to the _wolf-men_ below, but Quinlan was unfamiliar with their language.

The _wolf-men_ below slowed their pace as they stood in front of the exit and faced the entire horde before them without showing an ounce of fear.  There were ten total and they turned, looking up to the _strong man_ who was still running to the aid of the other.  They would make a last stand here then, holding them off as long as possible to give the _strong man_ time.  They drew their weapons and gun fire began to pop again as the _nimble-men_ who scrambled along the cliff walls began to fire also and Quinlan cringed.

_Damnation._

He did not wish to out himself, but if the horde broke through, they were only miles from the cabin and … these marvelous warriors would die.  He and his humans would have to flee the area for not even he could stand against five thousand strigoi alone.

_No.  Time to stop **running**._

Quinlan leapt to action as he scaled and flew across the top of the rocks, sliding down the edge of the twelve foot boulder that trapped the _strong man_.  The man’s eyes widened as he reached for his firearm upon seeing the dhampir’s visage, but Quinlan wasted no time as he wedged himself between the ground and the rock, flexing his leg muscles as he exerted himself, pushing it up slowly.

**_Do NOT shoot me._**  He thought hopefully as he tried to convey the sentiment through his eyes while he grunted and stared the man directly in the face.  As the boulder began to shift, the man’s eyes grew wider and he lowered his gun shifting his attention to freeing his foot rather than shooting Quinlan.

**_Good._ **

The man stumbled back suddenly as Quinlan shifted the boulder entirely, rolling it over the edge and down into the cavern below.  He suddenly got an intense smell from the _strong man_.  He smelled like a man, yes.  But also like … _Ursa_ … He was a _bear_.

The man moved to the next boulder to finish the seal and Quinlan nodded to him quickly as he looked back down and saw the _wolf-men_ below had been surrounded.

_Damnation_.

He drew his sword as he heard the second _bear-man_ slide down into the area and Quinlan shrugged as he jumped down swiftly into the middle of the chaos below.  The _wolf-men_ took no notice of him at first as they bobbed and weaved, cutting, shooting, and scratching at their strigoi attackers.  They were _faster_ than the strigoi could strike, but they were being overwhelmed.

He could see that one of them had already fallen and he was incredibly _displeased_ with this as his annoyance started to mount.  He dispatched his father’s progeny with extreme efficiency, not bothering to draw his guns as he wished to work silently.  The strigoi were focused on their _human prey_ , and he cut them down from inside and behind, working his way towards the _wolf-men_ until finally he was between the two groups.

They had yet to fully notice him until one of the _wolf-men_ had lobbed an entire minion up and completely over Quinlan’s head and as it trailed above him, he flicked his wrist and removed its head from its body.  There was a brief moment of stillness as the _wolf-men_ stared at him, the strigoi stopped moving, and all eyes were on him now and he saw the red circles overcome the minions in the front at first, but it did not just stop there … not just one minion, it was like a wave and Quinlan saw all the minions being overcome by the Master.  He had never seen his father take over so many at once and in unison their voices sounded together in a rhythmic hymned hiss.

_“Boooooorrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”_

The _nimble-men_ on the cliff walls had began to shout again and he turned to the gawking _wolf-men,_ screaming at them to move, “ ** _Withdraw_**!!!”  They obeyed as they leapt to the wall and scrambled up and he heard another war cry from above and then another matched one from the other side of the canyon as the strigoi started to surround him and he smiled as he saw the torches suddenly sparked and tossed down into the belly of the valley on all sides.

_It’s a giant kill box. **Very** clever._

They backup him up to the cliff, but it mattered not.  He looked down at the fallen wolf-man and removed his head before giving the red eyes a grin and a wink.  He scaled back up the wall with ease and the strigoi below unsuccessfully attempted to follow, scratching at the rocks below.  On his way back up, he caught sight of the torch that had been dropped above him and the minions screamed from below before the land caught fire around them.

**_“Boooooorrrrrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnn.”_ **

Pulling himself up atop the cliff’s edge, he watched his _Father_ ’s progeny scream and burn in agony in the trap below as a smile graced his face again.  He already knew the men had begun to surround him and he turned slowly to face them all.

They were the _wolf-men_ , the _bear-men_ , and the _nimble-men_.  As he turned fully, his sword still in hand he noticed that others had joined them in the rear.  Their eyes looked iris-less; perfect circles of black.  They reminded him of his eyes and yet, he also knew they reminded him of a _Accipitris_ … _hawk-men_.  They had been watching it all.

He watched patiently as they all gazed on him and he waited.  They should not be underestimated, but he knew, no matter what, _they would undoubtedly underestimate him_.  He stood before the forty men and stood in silence as they examined him.

The largest of the _wolf-men_ raised his gun and Quinlan clenched his muscles in preparation for moving to dodge anything that might happen next.  He saw the bear-man he had freed step forward and speak to the wolf-man, waving his arms towards his foot and then towards Quinlan.  They still spoke the language with which he was entirely unfamiliar.

The _bear-man_ pushed at the _wolf-man’_ s gun, but the gun was not lowered and Quinlan cocked his head to the right, finally offering words.

“ _I am **not** your enemy._ ”  He offered pointlessly.

There were many whispers throughout the men and more words between the _bear_ and the _wolf_ before the other men raised their guns to him.  He expected as much.  He would not have trusted _him_ either.  The _Master_ could have sent him, after all.

“ ** _So Be It Then._** ”  He said as he gripped the handle on his blade tightly and prepared himself for what would ensue.  They were more than men, yes, but he was so very much more than they were … even forty of them.  He breathed in deeply, calming himself, before he caught a whiff of … _something familiar … something lovely … something … **angelic**._

_Damnation!  He had told her to stay–_

“ **ENOUGH**!!!”  His poet screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If some people are confused about this a bit ... [Check this out.](http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Onondaga_\(tribe\))
> 
> Specifically, _There are nine Onondaga clans, each representing an animal: **Wolf, turtle, beaver, snipe, heron, deer, eel, bear, and hawk.**_
> 
> Can anyone guess what clan Hathų belonged to?


	113. 16.2 - Fruition

> [Lake Baikal,](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Baikal) Siberia

Michael hit the ground with absolute precision and complete silence as he folded his metallic wings in behind him.  He turned his body towards the edge of the cliff as he walked up to it and gazed upon the lake below within the ancient rift valley.  It was summer, so the lake wasn’t currently frozen and he watched in anger as he verified what the _little plague_ had told him.

“Son of a bitch.”  The line of _human plagues_ expanded around the bank, as they took turns diving into the lake, coming up, and piling rubble on the beach before entering the water again and repeating.  Huge mounds of dirt and sediment had been piled up on the beaches for miles, they’d been going at this for months now.  There were tens of thousands of them and Michael cringed.  Too many for him to put a noticeable dent in and his _Brother_ would see him.  He would know that he _knew_.

“ _Damn it.  Why would **he** do this?_ ”  He questioned himself before he turned back and expanded his wings.  He could no longer turn a blind eye to any of this.  He could no longer hide in the shadows.  His life … His progeny’s life … Whatever fate and punishment awaited them all, it was not worth the cost of all three realms.  He only said more word before he took flight again.

“ ** _Fuck_**.”  

 

* * *

 

They barrelled down the dirt roads at a terrifying speed as Dawn drove and the old truck slipped and slided across the mud and ice.  Gus grabbed the side of the window and cursed regularly.

> “We are almost there!  Turn right up here … _I think_.”  Her voice assured

“ _A la mierda, chica!!!_ ”  He screamed as they hydroplaned slightly before the wheels spun in place in the mud and the truck lurched forward while Dawn chuckled madly.  “Maybe I should drive!?!”  Gus had tried to beat her to the driver seat, but Dawn had been faster when they had taken the truck just minutes before.

Fet had the keys to the van in his pocket and he was off somewhere in the woods right now.  There wasn’t time and Dawn nearly panicked before Gus had her back and made the suggestion they take the vehicle he had just fixed.

“You don’t know where we are going!”  Dawn gripped the steering wheel so tightly at Ten and Two that her knuckles were entirely white in color and she leaned forward trying to see above the wheel, but it was hard with her short stature.  

The truck was too old to allow for _any_ vertical adjustment of the seat and Gus had laughed at first.  “Maybe I should drive, you gonna need a booster seat!”  He was amused with himself until she shot him the dirtiest look that she could muster and he silently pulled his seat belt on instead.  But now … They barrelled down the icy road at a ridiculous speed.

“And you do!?!”  He questioned, his voice laced in minor panic.

“Sure … don’t I?”  She asked herself and the spirit that watched from beyond.

> “Uh … Left!”

Dawn looked at the straight road ahead of her and screamed into thin air, _“THERE IS NO LEFT!”_

> “DAMNIT, I SAID **_LEFT_**!!!  THROUGH THE TREES.  LEFT! _LEFT! **NOW**!”_

She shrugged to herself as she bit into her lower lip, taking a deep breath before she jerked the wheel strongly to the left and they jumped the small hump of dirt that had been pushed to the side to flatten the dirt road.  Now they were tearing through the forest  as trees flew passed them on both sides.

Gus yelped like a little boy as he covered his face, “ ** _SANTO DIOS!!!_** ”

Dawn thought they were definitely going to die and her heart raced faster and faster until suddenly everything had seemed to almost slow around her all at once.  She assumed the truck was moving slower and she slammed down on the gas for more speed but then she heard Gus screaming again.

“ _¡A la mierda, vamos a morir!!!_ ”  His voice was slow and the words were drawn out.  No, they hadn’t slowed, but she was perceiving everything slower and this caused her to grin madly as she pushed the acceleration even faster now, turning the wheel and dodging the trees with tremendous precision until they broke through and hit the clearing of a field.

Everything seemed to be going great until they came to the end of the overgrown plants and there was simply no time to turn from the dry farming aqueduct that ran across the border of the crop.  Dawn cringed as she braced herself for impact and the truck flew forward, ramming itself into the bank and jerking them both forward.

“Fuck my life…”  She heard Gus mutter under his breath to her right and the voice chimed in again.

> “Sorry.  That was there, I should have warned–”

“How far?!”  Dawn screamed at her.

> “It is not far, you can make it on foot now.  Same direction, straight ahead.”

Dawn pulled her seatbelt free and exited the vehicle without hesitation as Gus trailed behind her and they scaled the small concrete wall of the false river seconds before they heard more gunshots ring out.  They were very close now and they both ran as fast as they could.

Dawn was somehow barelyfaster than Gus and he struggled to keep up with her …

 

* * *

 

“ **ENOUGH!!!** ”  She screamed as she could already see his hand tightening on the blade handle and all eyes turned to stare at her as Gus came up behind her, panting like a mad dog.  She had never quite seen _that look_ on Quinlan’s face before as his eyes glared at her and a chill ran down her spine.

> “ _Ohhhhh_ … he does _not_ look happy with you …”  Hathų squeaked quietly.

“You think?”  She whispered to herself and the large man closest to Quinlan shifted his attention back to the dhampir as Quinlan did the same and all eyes focused back to a probable attack.

_Shit._

> “Repeat after me.”  Hathų said and then started to rattle some off with sounds that Dawn thought she might have never even heard before.  “SAY IT!”  The voice screamed at her as she felt the tension increasing more and Quinlan moved his sword slightly.

_Shit shit shit._

“I don’t even know how to make some of those sounds.”  She whispered to herself quietly and Quinlan’s eyes diverted back to hers momentarily as he furrowed his brows.

> “Then you need to let me!”

“Let you what?”  She hissed to herself and Gus tugged on her arm as she suddenly found herself stepping forward.

> “Let **_ME_** say it.”

_For the first time in her life, Dawn found herself relinquishing all control … as Hathų came forward._

 

* * *

 

Quinlan tensed when he saw her step towards them.  What was she doing?!  These men were on a knife’s edge of tension and this would likely result in much blood being shed, but suddenly he heard language from her mouth that he had recognized from the _beast-men_ earlier.

The largest of the _wolf-men_ turned back to her, his eyes full of confusion and everyone was suddenly looking at her again.  She was angry and forceful in whatever she was saying and she pointed to Quinlan fiercely as she spoke with a commanding voice to the large _wolf-man_.

He returned words of reservation and the other men seemed to lower their weapons slightly as she continued.  The _wolf-man_ seemed to argue back and when he took several steps towards her, Quinlan moved quickly.  He was still holding his gun and Quinlan would much prefer it if he did not advance upon her in his current state of agitation.

Dawn’s arm flew up to halt Quinlan and her face was nearly angry as she looked at him, “ _Calm your fire!_ ”  She commanded him to stay and Quinlan halted as he blinked at her words.

 _His fire_?  This was not her language … No.  This was not … **_her_**.

She turned back to the _wolf-man_ who argued furiously with her now and she pointed again to Quinlan, rattling off many strange words before she ended it with a _loud_ and strict word, “ _HINON_!”

The man seemed to spit at her accusation and waved his hand towards Quinlan, with more words, dismissive in their intonation and he could pick out that loud word again, “ _hinon_ ” in the center of the sentence.

She repeated her same words again, pointing to Quinlan as she ended it again with the same loud and strict word, “ ** _HINON_**!”

The _beast-men_ all whispered now in unison amongst themselves, and he heard them repeating that same word again as they lowered their guns and turned back to him, quiet and reserved.  The _wolf-man_ was not so easily swayed it seemed and he argued again, pointing his gun back towards Quinlan.

Dawn spoke again and this seemed to appease the man entirely and he lowered his gun finally as he nodded, before he spoke English finally, “ _So Be It Then._ ”  He repeated Quinlan’s exact words, and it had been on purpose as he looked to the dhampir’s eyes moments before he said it.  He waved towards the other direction as he commanded her, “ _This way._ ”

The men all seemed to shift as they started walking towards the same way that he had directed her and Quinlan blinked as the entire situation seemed to be … _completely diffused_?  What on Earth could she have said to deter them from trying to kill _him_ or even consider _trusting him_?!

Perhaps not _entire trust_ as the men surrounded them quickly, shuffling the three together as they guided them away from the cliff side and Quinlan grabbed her arm carefully, asking her softly, “What did you say to them?”

Dawn looked up to him with a beautifully shocked face as she shrugged, “I … _I don’t know_.  That wasn’t _me_.”

They walked for some time until they came to a small clearing being used as a parking lot and the dark skinned _beast-men_ piled into their vehicles.  He could see that they were wide ranging in age.  One boy appeared no more than 14 years old while others seemed upwards of 50 or more.  These weren’t soldiers; they were a family.

Quinlan was hesitant at first as they herded them into the back of a pickup truck, but he didn’t wish to exacerbate the animosity further, especially with both Dawn and Gus present and he complied, jumping up first and pulling her up behind him.  They were joined by the _bear-man_ whom Quinlan had freed and they nodded to each other.

“Where are they taking us?”  Gus asked impatiently and Dawn looked down for a moment before she answered.

“To the _Clan Mothers_.  And … ”  Dawn finally said, “ _To the **Great Fire**_.”

Gus looked like he was thinking about asking what the hell that meant, but shrugged instead and started up a conversation with the large man instead.

“Hey, I’m Gus.”

The man stated plainly, “You can call me Little Bear.”  Gus laughed at this, because the man was easily as tall as Fet and obviously more muscular, “Or George.  Either one’s good.”  The two men continued small talk and Dawn used the opportunity to speak candidly to Quinlan.

She whispered, “She said it wasn’t her intention, but they weren’t going to just let us go.”

Quinlan reached over to her and pulled her closer to him as he whispered back, “I told you to stay inside.”

“I know.  But–”

“I do not care what your [genius](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genius_\(mythology\)) tells you to do.  Next time you will do as I have instru–”

She blinked at him as she smiled widely, interrupting his sentence with a tiny giggle, “I never told you what my IQ was … but _thanks_ I guess.  It actually wasn’t _my_ idea.  It was–”

He sighed as he shook his head.  His terminology was off for this modern language.  To him, a genius meant something _entirely_ different.  “No, not _your_ _genius_.”  He corrected as he tapped her temple gently with his gloved index finger, holding back the smile that wished desperately to grace his lips, “I mean your _[genii](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genius_\(mythology\))._ ”

She blinked.  “ _Genie? … like in a bottle type of genie?_ ”  She looked up with a furrowed nose and Quinlan continued to fight his smile that so desperately wanted to escape again.   _Damnit_.  He was trying to be serious here and she was making it so very difficult for him.  She needed to understand that it was _unacceptable_ that she had put herself in needless _danger_!

He sighed heavily, refusing the smile, as he rotated his head in exasperation, “ _NO_.  Your _guardian spirit.”_

“Oh.   _Her_.”  A nonchalant shrug before she shook her head back and forth vigorously, “No.  I think she’s insulted.  She says she’s not _Djinn_.”

“I did not need your aid.”  He chastised her, “It put you _both_ at risk.”

“I didn’t come to help _you_.”  She stated plainly, “I came to help _them_.”  And she thrust her head towards the _bear-man_ who still happily chatted with Gus, “You would have killed them all.”

“Yes, it was quite likely.  But that was _their_ choice … “  He shook his head as he repeated, “Next time, do as I instruct.”

“As you **_instruct_**?   _Hmmm_ … ”  She turned up to him as the truck started moving finally and that _glorious little grin_ graced her square face.  Quinlan stared down to her thin lips and she spoke, “Psh, you should know me better than _that_ by now.  When I have ever _just_ done what I’m told?”

He was more angry with himself at this moment than with her and he did in fact know better.  Her defiant words had made him actually smile slightly this time while he took a breath of her in, pulling her closer to him as they bounced in the bed of the truck.

**_Damn it._ **

 

* * *

 

They rode for several miles as the truck bounced from side to side over the rocky terrain beneath them and Gus merrily continued his conversation with the big man, while the other two just listened.  It was frigid, but being close to Quinlan was nice and he gripped her around her shoulders pulling her closer as soon as she shivered the first time.

When she leaned forward to pull up her hood over her hair, she felt a slight tug on the end of her braid.  As she turned to face him with a frown, she was actually greeted with a minute smile.  He seemed to be done _lecturing_ her for now.

“What _now_?”  She questioned him with a grimace, expecting him to critique her yet again.

“This is _new_.”  He stated as he traced the threads of her braid slightly with his finger before she finished pulling her hood up and over it, hiding it from his eyes and touch.

“Oh?  Does it make me look like a _clown_ also?”  She sulked slightly and his shoulders came down in an exaggerated and exasperated relax as he sighed heavily before he pulled her back under his arm, to his chest and to his warmth firmly.

“No.  It does not.”  He said succinctly.  “It is _nice_.”

She might have pressed to say something further about the subject, but the truck slowed as they turned to see the camp they were quickly approaching.

There were tents _everywhere_ , some new, but most were old and some even looked ancient.  Camp fires and fire pits burned everywhere, lighting the entire place in an amber glow.  As the vehicles approached, people ran to greet them and Little Bear stood, waving them all off the truck.

She would have jumped, but Quinlan was down before her and he lifted her down to the ground without asking.  She _could_ have jumped down herself, _damn him_.  Quinlan surveyed the area quickly before he pulled his hood down as far as possible to hide his visage.

“This way.”  Little Bear showed them past the first tent and she watched as a woman ran up to the man that she had argued with at the cliffs edge.  Some sad news was transferred and the woman burst out into tears as she buried her head into the man’s chest and Dawn hesitated, while Quinlan pushed her along.

“ _There was a casualty_.”  He explained to her simply and he tried to pull her along but she tugged on him slightly.

“It’s not that … “  She barely breathed the words to him and he stopped, tilting his head to the right with her hesitation, “There’s … _something here_.”

“What kind of _thing_?”  He asked, his voice laced with timid concern.

“This way.”  Little Bear repeated and she complied as they continued as all the eyes gazed upon the three strangers in silence as they walked towards the center of the camp.  As they approached their destination, she felt Quinlan grip her elbow suddenly as he nodded to her, “Indeed, there is _something_.  I feel it as well.”

> “This is a bad idea … You should _not_ be here.”  The voice muttered as they walked.

“ _Yeah, I think it’s a little late for that._ ”  Dawn muttered and Quinlan turned to furrow his brow at her in an expression that was fairly clear: “ _SHOOOSH_ _the spirit talking_.”

The tent in the center was _very old_ and guarded by two middle aged men with rifles.  The leather that wrapped around its frame was cracked, thick and ancient.  The two torches that graced the entrance seemed to be just as old and ordained with swirls and spirals that reminded Dawn immediately of her own childhood drawings.  She pulled back suddenly as she stared at the door and the rumble in her mind was noticeable while Hathų’s voice was slightly panicked.

> _“Do **not** go in there.”_

Little Bear spoke to one of the guards quietly, who entered the tent and then returned quickly, nodding to the giant man.  He turned to the three but only pointed to Dawn and Quinlan, “ _Two Thunders_ will see you.”

Quinlan stepped forward but Dawn did not, and both Little Bear and Quinlan looked back towards her as she stuttered, “I _shouldn’t_ go in there.  I’ll just wait out here.”

> _**“DO NOT GO IN THERE.”** _

Little Bear shook his head, “Sorry.  This is _not a request_ , little one.”

Dawn furrowed her nose at his _nickname_ , as only Mr. Parker could call her that and her mind hit near panic as her hand traced to her back pocket which housed the baton.  Quinlan grabbed her hand gently, preventing it from retrieving the weapon as he stepped to face her, looking down as he read her mounting anxiety.

“I am here.  It will be _fine_.”  He tilted her head up until she locked eyes with him, “It will be _fine_.   **Yes**?”  She nodded meekly to him and he grabbed her hand, pulling her into the entrance of the tent as she pulled her hood down over her face as far as possible.  Hathų’s voice chimed in unison with hers.

> _**“Fuck.”** _

_**“Fuck.”** _

> “Keep your head _down_.  And for the love of everything that is holy … **_DO NOT LET HIM SEE YOUR EYES_**.”

 

* * *

 

Quinlan could smell the blood before they entered, but he had a hard time trying to decipher what it was _from exactly_ at first.  Once they entered, he understood why.  There were carcasses of animals strung up on the other end of the tent, being drained of their blood into bowls beneath them.

Quinlan thirsted deeply, it had been days since he last fed and the sight of so much blood sent chills down his spine.  He regretted not feeding on the stag that he had caught, but animal blood would make him _weak_.  Even so, this smell coupled with his craving was _intoxicating_ and he twitched violently at the sight of it all.

Of the animals strung up, there was a wolf, a bear, a stag, a large snapping turtle as well as several beavers and hawks.  He felt the _Poet_ tense behind him, gripping his hand fiercely as he heard her timid voice.

“What is _that_?”

Quinlan knew what it was … or what it was attempting to be, “They are attempting _blood magic_.”

“ _Blood magic_?”  She choked and he nodded.

“Ancient peoples believed that they could harness the powers of the wild through their blood.”  He explained.  “But it is a false belief.”  He assured her, “There is no such thing as _magic_.”

He could sense her timidness in her voice as she spoke quietly, “Isn’t _Magic_ just simply _Technology_ that has not yet been explained?”  He remembered those words as he had spoken them to her in the house a month before, but there was no _Technology_ in _this_.

A massive fire burned in the center of the tent though there was _nowhere_ for it to vent and several tables divided them from the blood letting, most of which were covered in maps and small objects that Quinlan recognized were being used to represent military units and planning.

He was intrigued by this, but held himself back from exploring it now.   The farthest table had just one simple item on it which immediately reminded him of the small box Setrakian had built to house the _Master_ ’s red worm, except this silver box was intricate and covered with swirls that were similar to the torches outside.  The mark that graced its top was one with which Quinlan was familiar.  He had seen the Enochian symbol on the sunpages and he remembered it clearly.

> It was _A Ametajisa de Barinu, **The Seal of Holding.**_

Quinlan surveyed the room again and it make him even more uneasy, as they seemed to be completely alone, but _he knew_ that statement was false.

The voice shocked them both and Quinlan stepped in front of the woman out of pure instinct, putting himself between her and the source of it.  Neither of them had seen the man that stood on the other side of the fire until he actually spoke.

 _Man_?  He seemed to blend into everything around him and Quinlan had a difficult time focusing on him.  He could see him, but he could not.  He could hear him, but then again, he could not.  He could smell him … _almost_.  The only thing that he was completely sure of was that he could feel him.  The low and repetitive rumble inside of his mind, which he felt when any of the _Ancients_ had spoken to him.  But the man spoke more of the unknown language that the _beast-men_ were speaking and which his _Poet_ ’s genius had spoken through her.

“ _Show yourself._ ”  He commanded harshly, resisting the urge to draw his _blade_.  As the man stepped forward, Quinlan could see him better.  His skin was pitch black and he seemed to flicker in and out as the fire danced back and forth.  Two sets of small and curved ivory horns protruded from his forehead and Quinlan was taken back suddenly by his slitted yellow eyes, which blinked at him with a hidden vertical eyelid, just as Quinlan’s did.

He was on the other side of the fire, it seemed, until he stepped forward and Quinlan realized he’d actually been _inside of it_.  As he stepped, his figure took solid form and his inhuman features, the horns and yellow eyes, faded entirely.  He seemed entirely human now.

The _man_ was dressed in loose cotton garbs as he now stood before the dhampir face to face, speaking the strange language of the native people again.  Quinlan had _never seen … what was this thing_?  He shook his head at it and offered English, “ _I do not **speak** this language._ ”  It was so very rare that Quinlan had this problem.  He spoke more languages than most.

He briefly considered asking the _Poet_ to translate, but as he glanced back at her, he found her head was faced directly down to the ground, in an almost _submissive_ manner.  This was _odd_ for her after all and he remained between the two, as he considered his sword once more but he was unsure what he might be able to do with something that might be entirely composed of smoke, air, and fire.

_Patience Quintus._

The man tilted his head to the right and tried another language.  It was _almost_ familiar to Quinlan, he recognized two or three words of it, but he couldn’t piece the language together completely to verbalize it.  He’d only had a mismatched scribbled translation table that Setrakian had provided to him.  At the very least he knew it was **_Enochian_**.  He shook his head toward the man again.

The black man tilted his head to the left and tried another language, one with which Quinlan was actually familiar.  It was _Arabic_.

“تدعي امرأة كنت ابن شقيق الرعد العظمى، **Hinon** … “  He spoke clearly and properly.

> (The woman claims you are nephew of The Great Thunder, **Hinon** …)

“أنا لا أعرف هذا … **_Hinon_**.”  Quinlan countered in the same language.

> (I do not know this … **_Hinon_**.)

“ومن اسمه لهؤلاء الناس … كان لديه الكثير. زيوس، حورس، قوتزلكتل، انو، الحق … مايكل.”

> (It is his name to these people … he has had many.   _Zeus, Horus, Quetzalcoatl, Anu, The Right … Mîkhā'ēl_.)

Quinlan cocked his head to the right at the last name but offered no response.

“ثم أنها تقع؟ السماح لها الكلام وأنا سوف نعرف ما إذا كانت تقع.”  He hissed as he tried to peer around Quinlan to Dawn and the dhampir raised a brow.

> (Then she lies?  Let her speak and I will know if she lies.)

“سوف تتكلم معي، شيطان”

> (You will speak with me, demon.)

This seemed to please the black man as he laughed, “أنا لا أكثر شيطان مما كنت، آسف نصف سلالة. لقد أظهرت نفسي في الطلب الخاص، والآن نعود لصالح.“  He spat at him and Quinlan begrudgingly complied as he peeled back his hood.

> (I am no more a demon than you, sorry half-breed.  I have shown _myself_ at your asking, now return the favor.)

The man stepped back suddenly, as he crused rushed words in **_Enochian_** again and he turned to the fire before he whipped back around to face Quinlan directly.  The man had become uneasy at once and Quinlan could read the fear on his face quite well.  Perhaps it was a smart creature after all.

“معظم الابن ممنوع … خلق أكثر غير شرعي … كيف كنت قد سمح لها في الوجود؟"

> (Most forbidden son … most illegal creation … how is it you have been allowed to exist?)

Quinlan was unsure if this was a threat or not and he sneered to the man, “وأود أن أؤكد لكم، وأنا لست من السهل أن تقتل. وقد حاول الكثيرون، وقد فشلت جميع.”

> (I assure you, I am not that easy to kill.  Many have tried, all have failed.)

“كنت من _Ozyrel_ “  The black man put his hands up in a show of surrender as Quinlan tensed his body in preparation for action.

> (You are of _Ozyrel_.)

“أنا لا أعرف هذا … _Ozryel_.”  Quinlan countered.

> (I do not know this … _Ozryel_.)

“كيف يتم ذلك كنت لا تعرف دمك؟"  The black man asked of him in confusion.

> (How is it that you do not know your own blood?)

“أنت تتحمل علاماته … خطوطه … عينيه. أنت تتحمل … رائحة له.“  The man took a deep breath around Quinlan, closing his eyes as he investigated and savoured the smell for a moment until his eyes shot open and he tried again to peer around Quinlan, sniffing again as he felt the _Poet_ grip his arm tightly.

> (You bear his marks … his lines … his eyes.  You bear … his scent.)

“من هو هذا _Ozryel_ ؟”  Quinlan questioned in an attempt to distract the man from further investigation of the smells that surrounded them both.  It made him uneasy.

> (Who is this _Ozryel_?)

“الأول من الأول.“

> _(The First of The First.)_

Quinlan remembered the words in the _Lumen_ and nodded, “أنا نسل آخر من سبعة.”

> (I am progeny of _The Last of The Seven._ )

“نعم فعلا …” The man hissed, “السبع. الكلام اسمك.”

> (Yes … _The Seven_.  Speak your name.)

“أنا كوينتس Sertorius.“

> (I am Quintus Sertorius.)

“وأنت أيضاً؟”  Quinlan demanded next.

> (And you?)

“أنا برقان ابو العجائب من الحرائق. اثنين من الرعد. الملك الأسود.“

> (I am [Barqan Abu al-‘Adja'yb](http://jinn.wikia.com/wiki/Barqan) of the _Fires_.   _Two Thunders.  The Black King._ )

Quinlan scoffed a small chuckle, “اذا كان ذلك يعني شيئا بالنسبة لي؟ … ما أنت؟”

> (Should that mean something to me? … What are you?)

He felt the _Poet_ grip his hand tightly as she whispered, relaying information from her other voice no doubt.  “He is [_Djinn_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jinn).”  The black man looked towards her again, taking in a breath of the air around him, trying to decipher Quinlan’s scent from hers.

“نعم فعلا. أنا مارد. أنا حريق. أنا Eshim. اسمحوا لي أن نرى امرأة الخاص بك. تبين لها بالنسبة لي.”  The corporeal apparition commanded.

> (Yes.  I am Marid.   _I am Fire.  I am Eshim._  Let me see your woman.  Show her to me.)

**_“سوف تتكلم معي، شيطان.“_**   Quinlan repeated forcibly.

> **_(“You will speak with me, demon.”)_ **

“هل تأتي إلى تحديا لي، معظم الخلق المحرمة؟”

> (Do you come to challenge me, _Most Forbidden Creation?_ )

“لا، أنا لست عدوك، على الرغم من أننا نشارك واحد مشترك.“

> (No.  I am not your enemy, though we share a common one.)

“عليك محاربة السابع؟ تحارب نوع الخاصة بك؟ لماذا ا؟”

> (You fight the _Seventh_?  You fight your own kind?   _Why_?)

“بلدي التظلم هو شخصي. ولكن لماذا لا تحارب؟ لماذا تساعد هؤلاء الناس؟”

> (My grievance is personal.  But why do you fight?  Why do you help these people?)

“هذا هو ما أنا ولدت ل.”

> (This is what I am born to.)

“القتال أبي؟”

> (Fighting my _Father_?)

“أنا مارد. نحن الضمانات.“

> (I am [Marid](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marid).  We are _the safeguards_.)

“ضمانات من ماذا؟”

> ( _Safeguards_ from what?)

“كل تلك الشياطين الذين سوف المتمردين.“

> (All those devils who would rebel.)

“لذلك كنت قد يأتون إلى هنا للقتال معهم؟”

> (So you have come here to fight with them?)

“رقم لقد كنت دائما هنا. لقد تركت هنا بالنسبة لهم عندما يحين الوقت لتجميد سيأتي.“  Barqan waved to the silver box on the far table.

> (No.  I have always been here.  I was left here for them when the time of the freezing would come.)

“لقد حافظوا على أنك سجنت؟”  Quinlan prodded.

> (They have kept you imprisoned?)

“رقم وكانوا ليست واحدة لسجن لي.”  Barqan chuckled as he became more at ease with the _Born_.

> (No.  They were not the one to imprison me.)

“الذين يمكن أن تكون فعلت ذلك شيء من هذا القبيل كما كنت؟”

> (Who could have done that to something such as you?)

“عمك.”  The man laughed now again, “أنا خدمته”

> (Your uncle …  I serve him.)

“عندكم شخص من شأنه أن تسجن لك؟ أنت عبده؟"  Quinlan blinked.

> (You serve someone who would imprison you?  Are you his slave?)

“أنا لا الرقيق. وكان ذلك جزءا من بلدي التكفير عن الذنب.”  Barqan scoffed at the accusation.

> (I am **_NO SLAVE_**.  It was part of my _penance_.)

“التكفير عن الذنب لماذا؟ هل أنت مجرم؟”  Quinlan asked.

> ( _Penance_ for what?  Are you a criminal?)

“من نوع ما … بلدي الجريمة من عمل ضد المملكة.”  Barqan admitted simply, without an ounce of shame.

> (Of sorts … my crime of action against _The Kingdom._ )

“لذلك كنت اضطر لمساعدة هؤلاء الناس كنوع من العقاب؟”  Quinlan still pushed.  He needed to understand if this man was trustworthy and what his motivations might be.

> (So you are forced to aid these people as _punishment_?)

“رقم اضطررت إلى الانتظار عقابا … حتى يمكن أن يسمى الأول وسيكون لي لحراسة المرمى تفرج لي.”  Barqan waved off the suspicion with his hand.

> (No.  I was forced to _wait_ as _punishment_ … until I would be called and **_My Keepers_** would release me.)

“منذ متى وأنت أبقيت؟”  Quinlan was quite intrigued at this point.

> (How long have you been kept?)

“الوقت ليس ثابت. لا يهم.”  It was clear he harboured no ill will towards his past.

> (Time is not consistent.  It matters not.)

“لماذا تساعد أولئك الذين التعامل معك على هذا النحو؟”  Quinlan would never have forgiven those who had enslaved him.

> (Why would you help those who treated you as such?)

“عقوبتي رحمة. في حين تم تدمير إخواني، يسمح لي مايكل للعيش … في الوجود. أراني رحمة عظيمة.”  Solemness rushed over the black man’s face.

> (My sentence was a mercy.  While my brothers were destroyed, he permitted me to live … to **_exist_**.  He showed me a _great mercy_.)

“لذلك كنت سعيدا للمساعدة؟”  Quinlan posed.

> (So you are happy to help?)

“لقد ولدت في هذا، واحد من الشباب.” Barqan smiled.  There was no treachery in his voice still.

> (I was born to this, _young one_.)

“كما صباحا أولا”  Quinlan returned and he felt so very strange being called young by any other than the _Ancients_ themselves.  There was something almost … refreshing about it.

> (As am I.)

The man moved again and waved a hand towards Dawn as Quinlan stepped between them again, but Barqan barked more of the native language towards her.  She made no motion to speak or acknowledge him.

“وهي عبدي.”  Quinlan sneered to him.   _Be careful, Two Thunders._

> (She is just my servant.)

“وقالت انها تعرف أشياء كثيرة لمجرد خادمة.”  Barqan chimed.

> (She knows many things for just a servant.)

“لا شيء ينبغي أن تشغل أي واحد منا الآن.”  Quinlan wished to end his intrigue over the woman, “دعونا نتحدث عن أمور أكثر أهمية.”

> (Nothing that should concern either one of us now … Let us speak of more important matters.)

Barqan nodded and Quinlan turned to her as he nodded his head towards the exit, “Wait for me outside.   _ **Do not** wander off._ ”  She nodded and turned to leave, but as Quinlan spun back to the Djinn, he found that he had already moved, seemingly through the air and was now between the _Poet_ and the _Born_.

 ** _Damnation_**.

Though he was faster than _Two Thunders_ was, but by the time he had grabbed the Djinn’s shoulder to rip him back, Barqan had already spun her around and had looked directly into her face, taking a deep breath of her in.

“سوء اختيار.”  Quinlan hissed at him as he held the newly drawn blade to the black man’s throat expecting there to be a fight next, but the man had a look of inexplicable horror across his face as he placed his hands up in a surrender and he sharply told the _Poet_ to finish her exit, “ _Go_.”

> (Poor choice.)

“لقد رأيت شيئا، أمير الثعابين. لقد رأيت شيئا. اقسم.”  The Djinn’s voice was full of tremendous fear as he waved his palms towards Quinlan.  

> (I have seen _nothing_ , prince of snakes.  I have seen _nothing_.  I swear it.)

Someone might have assumed he was afraid of Quinlan at this moment in time, but his words proved something else.  He feared what he had seen in the woman’s face.  He repeated himself again and again, “لقد رأيت شيئا.”

> _(I have seen **NOTHING**.)_

“ماذا رأيت؟”  Quinlan asked as he blinked at the exchange.

> (What have you seen?)

“لقد رأيت شيئا.”  Barqan moved to the table with the military units poised around and pointed to them and the map upon which they were placed, “إذا يجب علينا مساعدة بعضنا البعض، وربما يمكننا أن نبدأ هنا؟”

( _I have seen **NOTHING**_.  If we shall help each other, perhaps we can start here?)

“رجاء. ماذا رأيت؟”  Quinlan asked again, almost desperate to understand what he had just seen.

> ( _Please_.  What have you seen?)

“أنا أستمتع وجودي.”  Barqan only offered the next sentence once before Quinlan dropped the subject all together.

> (I enjoy my existence.)

Something had rattled this powerful and ancient being to his very core and he regretted knowing something now.  Something he had seen in her face.  Something he had smelled on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the parallel between Barqan and the Onondaga:
> 
>  **Two Thunders** :  
> The Onondaga believe in a winged race of beings who lived in the sky called _The Thunders_
> 
>  **Keepers of the Fire** :  
> Eshim (אֵשִׁים - "fires", "flames", "sparks") are a class of angels said to be the closest to humanity's affairs.
> 
>  **Barqan** :  
> \--> under his rule were five hill-strongholds  
> \--> Onöñda’gega’ (IPA /onũtaʔkekaʔ/), "People of the Hills"
> 
> Also:  
> * He is monitored by the angel Michael  
> * His helpers are quite extraordinary
> 
>  


	114. 16.3 - Fruition

When she came out of the tent, Gus was missing.  She spun around looking for him, but he was absent.  There was only an older woman standing with her back pushed up against one of the neighboring tent’s posts as she lit the cigarette that dangled loosely from her mouth.

She was easily in her 60’s, not necessarily thin, at least 4 inches taller than Dawn and most of her hair was gray while the rest was raven black.  She was dressed practically and modern, sporting loose jeans, boots, a blue cotton undershirt and a plaid button up flannel pulled over it.  She took a deep puff of the tobacco before finally speaking, “Your friend went to get something to eat with _George_.  He’ll be fine.”

Dawn was notoriously bad when it came to meeting new people and rather than trying to introduce herself like a normal person might, she simply stood there and glared at the woman quietly.  The guards seemed to be gone from the front of the tent as well and the woman noticed her survey for them quickly.

“Eh, that was _mostly_ for show.  Jack and Bill went to get dinner too.  You hungry too?  We’ve got plenty.”  Dawn shook her head and the woman smoked a few more times as she stared and waited to Dawn to say something … _anything_.

> “Talk to her.  Do something.   _Say something_.”  Hathų urged, but Dawn would not comply.

“Well, I’m Star Giver … Or Barb.  I think I prefer Barb.”  She thrust a hand out and Dawn took it and shook it strongly.  “Good grip.  I like that.”

“My name is–”

> “ _D-_.”  Hathų urged again.

“Dawn.”

> “UGH.  Why do you keep–”

Dawn’s frustration with being told what to do by _everyone_ abruptly hit a breaking point and in her mind she pushed Hathų away forcefully as the voice went silent mid-sentence.

_Uh oh._

“Well, it’s nice to meet you.”  She shifted back and forth, obviously unsure which way she wanted to go, but finally pointed back the direction that they had originally been led through the tents, “Let’s go for a walk then.”

Dawn considered staying there as Quinlan had _instructed_.  ‘Do not wander off.’  His words replayed in her mind.   _Psh_ … she said to herself.  She can take care of herself, right?  The gun was still stuffed into her jeans and she had her baton.  Also, she did save _everyone_ of them just now.  The lady seemed nice and she shrugged.   _Why not._

“Sure.”  Dawn followed beside her for a ways and at one point, the woman blew smoke towards her and the _Poet_ waved it out of her face.   _She hated cigarette smoke_ and she had to resist with every ounce of self control she possessed from pulling it out of the woman’s mouth and stomping it out _._  The woman took note of her exaggerated and annoyed action.

“Yeah, I know.   _Coffin nails_ , right?   _Nasty habit._  I gave it up years ago … but seeing as everything is going to shit, I figured what the hell.” _Fair enough._

She opened the flap on a seemingly nondescript tent and held a hand out for Dawn to enter it, tying it shut securely from the inside before she stamped out the remainder of her cigarette in the dirt and joined the small woman within.

“What’s this about?”  Dawn pressed, noticing they were completely alone.

“Just a quick chat.  We haven’t gotten visitors here since … ever.”  She smiled and waved to a spot on the ground covered with folded blankets.  Seems like they were out of chairs unfortunately and Dawn sat down quickly, crossing her legs Indian style before she had a minor panic attack of whether that was _insensitive_ and uncrossed her legs immediately.

The old woman sat down clumsily, trying to ease her old frame down before giving up mid movement and letting herself just fall the rest of the way.  She fished another cigarette from her pocket and Dawn cringed until she realized it wasn’t a cigarette at all, but a rolled joint and Barb raised her eyebrows to her, “You mind?”

Dawn shook her head, “Go for it.”  Barb smiled and sparked the herb, taking a long and deep huff of it.  Dawn took the moment to ask the first question, “So, who are you guys?  Why are you here?”

“Me?  Or all of us?  Cause, I’m not really sure anymore.  The shit hit the fan and I was livin’ in Bangor.  By the time I got back down here, the tribe was already hit pretty rough with the _feeders_.  My mom was the Deer Clan Mother.  She didn’t make it past the second week, they say.  So here I am.”

“I’m sorry.”  Dawn offered her condolences and the woman shrugged it off as she offered her the joint.  “I really shouldn’t.”  Dawn shook her head.  It probably wouldn’t be the best if she was getting _high_ right now.  She could just imagine the lecture now and suddenly the thought of being defiant trumped any amount of reason that crossed her brain.

“There ain’t no judgements here.”  She smiled and Dawn stared at the little rolled paper before grabbing it and inhaling from it.   _She was gonna be in so much trouble._  She could just _feel_ it.  Some part of her smiled about it as she replayed his words in her head: ‘ _Do as I instruct._ ’   _Psh_.  She took another dragging breath of it while the woman continued to talked.

“It ain’t that big a deal.  We hadn’t talked in years and years.  I wasn’t big on tradition, you know.  Keep it in the family, protect the lake, secure the _Fire_ , blah blah.  Someone always tellin’ you what to do.”  Dawn nodded eagerly with understanding.  “You grow up on stories, you know.  And in this day in age, you don’t believe them anymore.”  They passed the smoking herb back and forth regularly now.

“Yeah, and then **_BAM.  Vampires right in your face._** ”  Dawn chuckled.

“ _Exactly … **Exactly**._ ”  Barb stared into the ember of the joint as she flicked ash free from it, “ _Vampires, Thunders_ , People bein’ given animal powers and shit … _weird shit_ … ya know.  Like … A white woman showin’ up, speakin’ an almost _dead language_ type of **_weird shit_**.  You know there are less than 100 people in the world that speak our language?”  Dawn gulped at the revelation this was an interrogation, “I imagine it’s _much_ less than that now.  Most of the elders are already gone, after all.”

“I…” She offered Dawn the herb again and Dawn shook her head, suddenly uncomfortable.

“Come on.”  She shoved it into Dawn’s hand and smiled, “We’re just havin’ a friendly conversation, right?”  Barb spoke the language now to Dawn and she only returned wide eyes to her.

“I… “  Shit, why did she have to push Hathų away!?!  Dawn shook her head, “I’m sorry … I don’t actually speak your language.”

Barb blinked at her, “That’s not what Three Paws said.”  She toked and handed the joint back to the short woman, who reluctantly took it and inhaled deeply.  Her head had started to swim a bit finally and she found herself staring into the dirt below, almost getting lost in her thoughts momentarily.

“I … “   _Fuck_.  “It wasn’t me … it was my _genii_.”

“Your genie?  Like the one we got in the tent over there?!”  The woman stared at her with shocked bewilderment.

“No no no.   _Not like him._ No _._ My _guardian spirit._ ”  Dawn flushed suddenly as she realized she’d never quite verbalized it like that before.  Those were the words that Quinlan had used and this was the first time she’d ever talked about it without feeling like she was _CrAzY_.  He had told her not to be ashamed and _god damn … that felt good._

The thought of his words shook something loose in her fogged mind as she abruptly remembered.   _Oh god, Quintus.  What was she doing here?  What if that Djinn was hurting him?  Why had she just walked away?!  Oh god, she’s gotta get back._  Dawn tried to scramble to her feet quickly as her high-driven paranoia seemed to grab control of her consciousness.  “I should get back.”  She said hastily.

“Hey … everything is cool.  We’re just chattin’  Your friend is fine.   _Two Thunders_ isn’t gonna hurt him … I don’t think.”  She waved for Dawn to reclaim her seat on the tent floor and she did.

“Psh, I doubt that guy could take Quintus.”  She mused to herself quietly as calmness slowly set back in.

 _Another puff._  “So what did you do before everything went to shit?”  Dawn asked, trying to divert the conversation and Barb laughed.

“To the _Iroquois_ , I was a [dream guesser](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.webwinds.com%2Fyupanqui%2Firoquoisdreams.htm&t=MGVhZGE0ZDM4ZGFkNmE4ZWNiZmZmZTIzYmYyZWRhOWZkNGE2MzAwMCx1RWRGOWVObQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156942168047%2Fchapter-16&m=1), but after I left, I joined the force, eventually became a detective … retired now though.  Well, was retired.”  For some reason that made total sense as Dawn laughed out loud and the woman was pleased with her amusement of it.  “You?”

She thought about how to answer that question.  Was there simply one word that could absolutely describe her and what she _had_ been?  Had she been so completely two dimensional before _all this_?  No, not really, but it was so strange that society focused one’s _entire character_ and purpose as being definable by an occupation.  She hesitated in answering, but finally complied, being as generic as possible, “I was a scientist.  But … _retired now_.”

Barb nodded and considered her next words briefly with a pause before she spoke, “So, if your _spirit_ isn’t a _[Thunder](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.native-languages.org%2Fthunders.htm&t=N2M5YjA0OWY1ZTM5ZTk5NjNkOWY4ZmE2OGEyMzgxNTBmMjE0OTEwMyx1RWRGOWVObQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156942168047%2Fchapter-16&m=1)_ , what is it then?”

Damnit.  She wished she hadn’t dismissed Hathų now.  Should she tell her that her spirit was Iroquoian?  Should she trust _this woman_ at all?  “She said she was a woman.”

“Was?”

“She died a long time ago.”  She shrugged as she took the tiny piece of the joint for one final inhalation as the woman stared at her with shocked and big eyes.

“You …”  Barb paused first, then continued, “You speak for the _dead, child_?”

That was an interesting way to put it, but perhaps that was accurate?  “I guess so?  But only that one.  I can’t just pick and chose.”  Dawn laughed.  “Although, that would be pretty cool.”  She considered who she would want to channel if she had the choice.  Hmmm … _Freddy Mercury?_   **_Hell yeah._**  Her head swam in growing fogginess over the thoughts that playfully danced across her mind and she had nearly forgotten she was still talking to the woman until she spoke again.

“There were stories of a woman of our tribe who could do the same.  But she only spoke to her ancestor, the _Great Peacemaker._  She was the last prophet the _Great Spirit_ gave us before we were pushed from our lands.”  Barb thought for a moment in silence as Dawn watched her carefully, “Her name was …”

She couldn’t hear all of the sounds that flooded out of the older woman’s mouth next, but she knew she didn’t need to.  She recognized just a piece of it, a potent piece of it, and she felt her mouth drop open a bit at it, “ ** _Hathų_** ’”.

Barb finished up the rolled piece of paper and snuffed it out in the dirt, putting the roach into her pocket as she continued, “ _She Who Hears her Ancestors._ ”

Dawn squinted at the woman as she gulped the word, “ _Ancestors_? … you said she was a … _prophet_?”

“Yup.  That’s the story, at least I think.  I didn’t pay much attention to be honest.”

“But … _what does that mean?  Prophet?_ ”

“Well, to the Iroquois, there is no greater divinity than the _Dream_.   _Prophets_ were given visions of the future by The _Great Spirit_ through them.”  Barb stood and visited a small table on the side of the tent, returning with a bottle of water which she opened, and unfortunately for her, shared with Dawn.

She had no idea how thirsty she actually had been and she drank nearly the entire bottle greedily, before she wiped her mouth, giving it back as she apologized, “Sorry.”

“S’okay.  I got plenty.”  She sat back down and looked at Dawn carefully as she asked, “So, tell me Dawn.  How is it that _your_ dead lady speaks _Onondagan_?”

She ignored her question entirely as she was actually eager to talk about the previous subject, “ _Dreams?  And these dreams can be **prophetic**?_ ”

Barb cocked her head to the right as she stared at the wide eyed woman, “Are you havin’ _dreams_ , Dawn?”

Dawn nodded.

“What’re you dreamin’ about?”

Dawn whispered, “ _Four snakes._ ”

 

* * *

 

Michael stepped back into form in his office and he paced for a moment as the suffocating gravity of the real situation began to set in.  He closed his eyes and called his brother forth.  It was mere seconds before Raphael had knocked and now stood before him.

Michael was grave, “Tell _Gabriel_ to prepare them for battle.”   He could have called for _Gabriel_ directly, but he did not wish to see the smug look on his little brother’s face when he told him that he had been right all along.

“Brother?”  The sudden revelation shocked his little brother and Raphael pushed for a reason, “Why now?  I felt the _travel_.  What has occurred?”

“The humans are losing this battle.”

“But, I thou–”

“ ** _DID I STUTTER, RAPHAEL?_** ”  Michael was in no mood for his brother’s inquisitiveness and Raphael shook his head in response.  “Then tell Gabriel.  We march on Earth in three days time.”

The order was accepted and Michael found himself alone again, as he slid down into his favorite chair, he placed his head in his hands in sad defeat.  It was all coming apart now.  His self-inflicted misery was suddenly cut short by a tiny knock at the door.  Had Raphael come back for more questions?!   _GOD DAMN IT._

“ ** _WHAT IS IT NOW!?_** ”  He screamed as the door creaked open and his favorite brown eyes in existence stared back at him.   _What?!?  What was she doing here?!  She should not be visiting him like this!_  His eyes flew wide with concern as she stepped in, closing the massive door behind her before she started to sneak over to him.

“What are you doing here?!?”  He stood up as soon as the door shut and rushed to her side.  He had never quite seen her face as … _guilty_ as this.  She never felt guilt about _any_ of her actions, regardless of what they were.  “You should not be here!”

“ _I know … **I know.**_ ”  She placed a hand on his chest to calm his growing fire and she looked up at him with the fakest smile he’d _ever_ seen out of her, “But, it’s important.”

“What is it?”  His concern was only growing with her reluctance to be candid.

“Ok.  Ok.   _But first_ … You must promise you won’t get _mad_?”  She put on her most adorable smile next.

 

* * *

 

Quinlan quite liked him, actually.  He’d never met another that was so like-minded in militaristic tactics.  He stared at _this demon_ for a moment and then caught himself.  If this man was a _demon_ , then so was he.  No, he was not a _man_ exactly, but he was not _evil_.  He was _exalted_ ; he was _different_ , just like Quinlan.

“كم قوية أنت؟”

(How many strong are you?)  Quinlan asked, staring at the board that they had just readjusted for the fourth time.

“ما يقرب من ستمائة، ولكن نصف فقط من الذي أنصح المعركة. بقية قديمة جدا أو صغيرة جدا.”

(Roughly six hundred, however only half of which I would recommend for battle.  The rest are too old or too young.)

“وكيف كبير هو الجيش الأفعى حاليا؟”

(And how large is the _Snake_ army currently?)  The Snake seemed to be Barqan’s terminology for his Father, so he followed suit with using the name to ease communication.

“أقدر ما لا يقل عن عشرة آلاف أضعاف هذا العدد. رغم ذلك، من المرجح حتى الآن.”

(I estimate at least a ten thousand fold as many.  Though, likely far more.)

Quinlan found himself gawking at that revelation and then he realized it was indeed likely true.  The Master had taken most of New York under his control and that city was massive.

“لقد … لم يفز مع هذه الصعاب.”

(I have … _never_ won with such odds.)  He admitted to the man and Barqan laughed as he slapped his shoulder with impressive force.

“لا؟ أبدا لقد قاتلوا معي بعد ذلك!”

(No?  You have never fought with me then!)

“ولكن، هل من الممكن؟”

(But, is it even possible?)  Quinlan thought not.  They had been using guerilla tactics and keeping the monsters at bay and confused.  Leading them around and away from their target location, which Barqan had already admitted to him, was exactly where he thought: _The Frozen Lake_.

“انا لا اظن ذلك. ولكن الهدف ليس الفوز. ذلك هو تأخير. لقد دعوت الآخرين.”

(I do not think so.  But the goal is not to win.  It is to delay.  I have called the others.)

Quinlan cocked his head.

“الآخرين؟”

(Others?)

“نوع بي.”

(My kind.)

“لا أعتقد أنها موجودة لفترة أطول.”

(I do not think they exist any longer.)  Quinlan shook his head as he thought he was breaking terrible news to the _Black King_.  If _Djinn_ still existed, then he would have surely seen them at some point in his lifetime but Barqan laughed wildly at this.

“يوجد؟ يا الأمير، ونحن تزدهر!”

( _Exist_?  Oh Prince, we flourish!)

“ولكن، لم يسبق لي أن رأيت آخر … مثلك.”

(But, I have never seen another … _like you_.)

“وأود أن لا يتصور ذلك. نحن جيدة جدا في الاختباء، و… ويمكنني أن تشعر بأنك القادمة بعد ميل واحد، طفل من الثعابين. إذا لم يكن بد لي أن مساعدة هؤلاء الناس، وأود أن فروا بالتأكيد. عدد قليل جدا تشعر كما تفعل.”

(I would not imagine so.  We are quite good at hiding, and … I could feel _you_ coming a mile away, _child of snakes_.  If I was not bound to help these people, I would have surely fled.   _Very few_ feel as you do.)

“كما أفعل؟ ماذا يوجد هناك أيضآ؟”

(As I do?  What else is there?)  Quinlan pondered.

“في البداية، اعتقدت لك أن تكون سيرافيم. هل نصفق مثل الوليدة النار الطيور. أستطيع أن أشعر الشرارة التي تحرق في دمك حتى من هنا.”

(At first, I believed you to be _Seraphim_.  You rumble within like a fledgling _Hennu_.  I can feel the spark that burns in your blood even now.)

“وهي؟ ماذا قالت أشعر؟”

(And her?  What did she feel like?)  Quinlan gently brushed the subject and Barqan ignored his prod entirely, shifting the subject back to his mentioned kin.

“سيأتي آخرون.”

(Others will come.)

“حتى متى؟”

(How long?)

“ليس لدي أي فكرة. دعوت لهم قبل أسابيع. ولكن أردنا أن يصمد لدينا في الوقت الراهن.”

(I have no idea.  I called them weeks ago.  But we are to hold our ground for now.)  Barqan waved to the figurines on the map and Quinlan pursued it again, moving a group across to another spot.

“آه، ولكن هذا من شأنه أن يترك البوابة الشرقية المكشوفة.”

(Ah, but this would leave the _Eastern gate_ exposed.)

“كان هناك نسيم الغربي المستمر ولطيف على الرغم من. يمكننا استخدام ذلك لجلب المزيد من النار.”

(There has been a constant and gentle western breeze though.  We can use that to bring more fire.)

“كنت ترغب في بإضرام النار في الأرض بأكمله؟ ولكن إذا كان لا يستمر؟ يجب نحرق أنفسنا إلى رماد.”

(You wish to set the entire land ablaze?  But if it does not continue?  We shall burn ourselves to ash.)

“لقد كان دائما حظا سعيدا مع الريح يجري على جانبي. ويمكن أن يكون حليفا مفيدا.”

(I have always had good luck with the wind being on my side.  It can be a useful ally.)  Quinlan shrugged as he pursed his lips together, biting the inside of his mouth as he considered other strategies.

He looked over to the _Djinn_ now, noting that they were exactly the same height.  Though this man was obviously more muscular, Quinlan had already determined by pinning him against the tent post that he was still _stronger_ and _faster_.

“ولعل الرياح يحب لك، المحرمة الأمير.”

(Perhaps the wind likes you, Forbidden Prince.)

He was unsure if he liked the new nickname or not, but it was quite different than what others usually called him.  The only other to call him _Prince_ had been _Ancharia_.

“أو ربما أنها تخشى لي.”

(Or perhaps it fears me.)  Quinlan corrected and Barqan laughed at this.

“ثم تكون الرياح الذكية جدا.”

(Then the wind is quite smart.)

“فإنه قد عمل. أنا يمكن أن تساعد على … مباشر … الحرق.”

(It may work.  I can help to … _direct_ … the burn.)

“يمكنك التحكم في النار؟”

(You can control _fire_?)  It seemed like a stupid question after it had escaped Quinlan’s lips, considering the man was inside of the fire after all.

“أنا يمكن أن تحفز ذلك. يمكنني أن أقترح عليه. أنا Eshim الأمير. أنا النار.”

(I can _motivate_ it.  I can make suggestions to it.  I am Eshim, Prince.  I am The Fire.)  Barqan laughed and nodded in agreement, leaving the _Eastern Gate_ exposed for now.

Once they had pushed the pieces around in such a way that pleased him, Quinlan walked around the tent for a moment, staring at the small box first as an idea crept across his mind.

“هل هذا فضة؟”

(Is this _silver_?)

He picked it up and he noticed Barqan’s immediate nervousness as the dhampir handled it.

“رقم والصلب و…”

(No.  It is steel and … )

Quinlan opened it, immediately able to see and smell that the inside was lined with [brass](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fgenies.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FBarkan&t=OTM2MTAzYzdkMDFmNjM2ZWNlM2IzMDI2ZmY4MTU1M2VlNWU1ZjQzOSx1RWRGOWVObQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156942168047%2Fchapter-16&m=1).  He understood at once the sudden onset of anxiety from the _Marid_.  This was his weakness and now Quinlan knew.

“نحاس.”

(Brass.)  Quinlan said and nodded.   _Shame_.  They needed another such cell for his Father’s worm after all.  He continued his perusal of the tent, looking at the animals that had been sacrificed and strung up.  Their dripping blood caused him to twitch suddenly and he sneered at his clear show of weakness, keeping his back to the _Black King_.

“أنت جياع، الأمير.”

(You hunger, Prince.)

“انا لست.”

(I do not.)  Quinlan lied.

“أستطيع أن أشعر عطشك من هنا.”

(I can feel your thirst from over here.)  Barqan laughed at his attempt at deceit.

“هل تستهلك الدم؟”

(Do you consume blood?)

“انا لست.”

(I do not.)

“ماذا بعد؟ ما يفعله الجوع الكريمة ل؟”

(What then?  What does your kind hunger for?)

“نحن لا المباركة مع الجوع الدنيوي. ومع ذلك، وأود أن لا ترفض حب امرأة أخرى. وكان أن وقتا طويلا.”

(We are not blessed with earthly hunger.  However, I would not refuse the love of a _woman_ again.  That has been a _long time._ )

Quinlan turned to him and he found _Two Thunders_ smiling sadly back to him, showing his brilliant white teeth as he clearly reminisced something pleasant in his mind.  Quinlan found himself grinning back.   _Indeed_.

“هناك نساء هنا. أنا متأكد من أنها سوف … يعوضك.”

(There are women here.  I am sure they would … _compensate_ you.)

Barqan laughed heartily for a moment.

“في حراسة المرمى من النار؟ كنت لا تعرف النساء هنا. هم متحديا جدا لهذا الغرض. هل تعلم أنهم هم قادة هذا الشعب العظيم؟”

( _The Keepers of the Fire?_  You do not know the women here.  They are _too defiant_ for **_that_** use.  Did you know they are the _leaders_ of these great people?)  Barqan was surprised by his own words.  He definitely came from older times.

“مؤسف بالنسبة لك، ثم.”

(Pity for you then.)

“لكن لا. حتى لو لم تكن كذلك. أنا لست بشرا. جسدي لا ببساطة … يستجيب هذا القبيل … بسهولة جدا.”

(But no.  Even if that were not so.  I am _not_ human.  My body does not simply … respond like that … very easily.)  Barqan shook his head at the dhmapir’s suggestion.

His words would have been confusing to any man, but Quinlan understood them somewhat. While part of him was tempted to ask what exactly it meant, the other part did not wish to continue on with this subject given his own _performance issues_ over the last four centuries.  So he simply nodded, turning back to the animals and staring into their blood bowls.

(You are our guest.  If you desire the blood, take your fill.  I will have more brought.)  Barqan offered him as he carefully watched Quinlan from across the tent.  Being this close to so much open blood was nearly maddening as he starved within for it.

“رقم الدم الحيوان لا … تتفق معي. ومع ذلك، أعرب عن تقديره للعرض.”

(No.  Animal blood does not … _agree_ with me.  However, the offer is appreciated.)  Quinlan placed his hand on his chest as he bowed his head towards the _Black King_.  He was now close enough that he could see the _Enochian_ symbols that lined the bowls, and his intrigue grew.

“كيف يعمل؟”

(How does it work?)

“الدم؟”

(The blood?)

“السحر. كيف يمكن أن يكون لك جعلتهم أكثر من الرجال؟”

(The magic.  How is it that you made them more than _men_?)

“ومن الاقتراض، الأمير. فقد العالم هذه المعرفة منذ أن كان … بعيدا؟”

(It is _The Borrowing_ , Prince.  Has the world lost this knowledge since I have been … away?)

“على مايبدو.”

(Apparently so.)  Quinlan nodded.  Yes, he recognized it now.  The symbol in the bottom of the bowl was the _Seal of Borrowing_.

“كل ما في وسعنا حروق من خلالنا في دمائنا. لقد اقترضت من البرية وغرست هذه السلطة بدماء هؤلاء الناس.”

(All of our power burns through us in our blood.  I have borrowed from the _wild_ and infused that power with the blood of these people.)

“يمكنك أن تفعل ذلك مع أي رجل؟”

(Can this be done to _any_ man?)  Quinlan asked as he looked back to the Djinn.

“رقم كان هؤلاء الناس الهدايا المقدمة. وقد جعلوا لتكون خاصة.”

(No.  These people have been given gifts.  They have been made to be special.)

“في أي طريق؟”

(In what way?)

“قدمت فيها القبض عليه من قبل **_Hinon_**. وكانت عشيرة من تسعة وأعطيت كل هذه المواهب لتمرير على أطفالهم.”

(They were made receivable to it by **_Hinon_**.  They were a clan of nine and each was given this talent to pass onto their children.)

Quinlan felt a twitching in his hand as he gripped it tightly to avoid revealing the shaking of the limb to his companion.  The hunger tremors had started and he sighed.

“لذلك، دمهم حروق بدماء هذه الحيوانات؟”

(So, their blood _burns_ with the blood of these animals?)

“كثير جدا هكذا. وسوف تستمر طالما أقف. وسأقف طالما أستطيع.”

(Very much so.  It will last as long as I stand.  And I will stand as long as I can.)

“هل هناك أي هنا الذين لا … الملوث؟”

(Are there any here who are not … _tainted_?)

Barqan understood the root of his question as he said he could feel his hunger and the _Marid_ shook his head in slow disappointment.

“لا، الأمير. لقد غرست جميعا هنا بالفعل. الوحيد الذي لا يشوبه هي تلك التي جلبت معك. إذا وجدت الحيوانات مقيت، ثم يجب أن تجد الغذاء في أماكن أخرى.”

(No, Prince.  I have already infused all here.  The only who are not tainted are those you brought with you.  If you find beasts _distasteful_ , then you must find nourishment elsewhere.)

Quinlan sighed again as he looked down to his hand which had finally ceased its uncontrollable rattle and he considered things again.  If he did not drink, he would get weaker faster.  If he did drink this blood, then he could halt his impending weakness where it was and stave it off for another day or two at the most.

Regardless, he needed to find _human blood_ if he wished to remain strong and useful.  Perhaps the redheaded Doctor might turn out to be useful after all.  He turned to the blood and picked up the bowl under the bear, cringing as he drank.  Animal blood made his stomach _uneasy_ to say the least and actually caused him to be uncomfortably bloated.

 _Grotesque_.

When he was finished, he cringed yet again and considered that it hadn’t been enough and he took the deers bowl next while Barqan watched in silent fascination.

“كنت لعن من الدم، تماما كما صانع بك.”

(You are cursed of blood, just as your maker.)

 _Indeed_.  For the first time since he fought earlier, he felt clearer.  It had taken more out of him than he cared to admit and now his senses sharpened again suddenly as he realized … he couldn’t hear anyone standing outside the tent any longer.

 ** _Damnation_**!

 

* * *

 

Barb simply stared at her, not willing to part with _any words_ for quite some time, until finally, “And you _are cut_ free and this **_black snake_** catches you and _transforms_ you?”

She kept going back to that part and Dawn would nod, “Yeah. Yeah.”

“And there is a crimson and silver snake?”

“Yes.  And the fourth one.”  How many times did she have to repeat this?  “Does it mean anything?”

“And this man you came with … you said he is ** _the black snake_**?”

“Yes.”  Oh for heaven’s sake.  “ _Does it mean anything?_  You said dreams are–”

“You’re pullin’ my chain, right?” Her skepticism ran high as she raised her eyebrow to the short woman, “This is a joke?”

Dawn blinked and she thought maybe they both had smoked too much.  It was a stupid dream, wasn’t it?  Yes, it was a stupid dream.  She grabbed and inhaled from the joint Barb offered her.  The older lady had sparked up _another one_ after she looked troubled when Dawn had first started to recant the dream tale.  “I wasn’t trying to, no. _I’m sorry._ ”

Barb sighed and looked down to the ground.  “Alright. Cause.   _You see_ … there is a dream prophecy among my people, child.  One that we believed had already come to pass.  One that the _Great Peacemaker_ himself saw … one with a red, white, and black snake.  With a white woman and a powerful Iroquoian child who would bring _peace_.”

Dawn stared at the woman as she took another puff.  Huh … that sounded a lot like her dream.

Barb looked at her carefully, “What did you say your last name wa–”

The tent’s frame swayed suddenly as the door was ripped opened from the outside and Quinlan stepped through suddenly.   _Uh oh._  Dawn’s eyes flew wide as she threw the joint to the ground attempting to hide it suddenly and she tried to stumble up to her feet as he spoke harshly to her.

“ _I told you not to wander off!!!_ ”  His brows were furrowed while his words were rushed as well as angry and his hood was off which made Barb gasped suddenly, “Ok.   ** _Black Snake._**  I got you now.”

“Who are you?”  He spat at the older lady and Dawn put herself between them quickly, while she tried desperately to hold in a giggle.   _Don’t laugh._   _Don’t do it._

“Barb, Quinlan … Quinlan, Barb.   _She’s a Clan Mother._  She just had a few questions.”  She looked at him with her own furrowed brows as she mentally struggled with acting normal.  He finally halted his glare towards the woman, taking notice of her and sniffing slightly while staring down into her eyes.  Dawn looked away, but she already knew it was too late.

_Shit._

Quinlan grabbed her jaw gently as he tilted it up allowing him to see into her eyes better and he sniffed the air again, “Are you … _are you **intoxicated**???_ ”

Uh oh.

“ ** _No_**.”  She meekly lied before furrowing her brows at him, “Is that _blood_ on your mouth?”


	115. 16.4 - Fruition

Quinlan had asked that they be returned to the cliff side where they had taken them.  He didn’t wish their cabin location known by anyone in the tribe, as information can easily be stolen by his _Father_.  He told Barqan that he would return in the morning to help convey the new orders to the men as less than ten percent of those who were left shared a language with the Djinn.  He welcomed Quinlan’s assistance on this matter.

Now they walked quickly back to where Gus claimed the truck was _stuck_ , although the Boxer was fairly certain it would not be salvageable.

“It’s in a ditch, man.  It’s like … _in the ditch_.”  He attempted to describe the condition with hand signals, but Quinlan ignored his concern.  He didn’t wish to walk back the three miles on foot, especially not with her in this … _condition_.

“Does the engine still work?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure, but–”

Quinlan waved off his negativity as he’d seen the vehicle, it didn’t seem that large.  Ditch or not, he might be able to recover it.  It was at least half a mile from their current location though and they trudged through the cold and muddy terrain in near silence.  He hadn’t shared many words with her since he discovered her becoming inebriated with that older woman.

He had attempted some form of lecture but when she had refused to engage with him at _all_ , he had dropped the subject before pulling her back to the parking lot of vehicles, just eager to get them all back to the cabin.

Gus hadn’t exactly made things better when he _finally_ joined them at the pickup truck to leave.  “We leavin’ already?  Man, they got some great pupusa things.  Carnitas and chile–”

Dawn popped her head up and spoke _finally_ , “Ooooo, do they have any left?”  Her eyes were wide with hunger and as Gus was trying to point the direction, Quinlan snapped at them both.

“We are _not_ staying any longer.  We need to get back.”

“Damn man, what crawled up your ass?”  Gus said before he realized he was talking to Quinlan and dropped the subject completely, jumping into the bed of the truck as he looked down at a smiling, red-eyed Dawn.  Realization struck him, “Holy shit, are you **_stoned_**?  What did I miss?!”

But after being dropped off, they walked in near silence to the location of the truck.  As they came up to the shallow concrete aqueduct with the front of the truck tipped over into it, Quinlan had been right.  It really wasn’t as bad as he assumed given Gus’ vigor about the terrifying experience.  It was a very small ditch and the front of the truck was a bit squished, yes, but it had survived quite well.

“You could not avoid hitting _this_?”  He questioned Gus and the _Boxer_ immediately pointed to Dawn accusingly.

“Nah man, don’t look at me.  I wasn’t the one drivin’.”

She giggled and shrugged as Quinlan shook his head towards her.  He wanted to tell her it was dangerous yet again, but he knew she had saved quite a few lives tonight.  She had also been the reason behind the introduction to the _Black King_ , and he was suddenly more _grateful_ for her presence than _angry_.  It would have been a pity if he had made an unintentional enemy of the _marid_.

Quinlan assessed the condition of the truck, walking around it several times before he looked underneath the back and found a suitable location to grab it before he pulled it up and out of the ditch with minor effort.  He was still weakening and he would need to be more discerning about when he would use his strength in the near future.

“Niiiiice!”  Gus clapped and started to climb into the back of the truck as Quinlan looked around perplexed for a moment.

“Wait … where is the road?”

“Uh …. We didn’t use a road.”  Gus confessed and Dawn chuckled again but offered no words of explanation.  This was the quietest he’d ever seen the _Poet_ and he didn’t like it at all.  She was normally quiet, but not _mute_.

“From which way did you come?”  Quinlan climbed into the bed with Gus to get a better look over the field and the path of destroyed plants that they had left in their hurried wake.

“Through the trees, from that way.”  Gus pointed.

“You drove _through the forest_?”  Quinlan blinked as he squinted.  The trees in that direction looked quite dense.

“No worries, _I got this_.”  Finally she spoke again as she attempted to reach for the driver’s door handle and Quinlan was sure he’d _never_ seen Gus move as fast as he did, jumping down from the bed and stopping Dawn from opening the truck.  He’d never even seen Gus move _that fast_ when he had been running from and/or killing _strigoi_.

“Nah _Shortie_ , no no, it’s aight.  It’s cool.  I can drive back.   ** _I got this_**.”  His voice was laced with pure dismay and just a hint of terror.

“I think I remember the way though.”  She assured him with a smile.

“But … you drove _through_ the forest?”  Quinlan asked again, unsure if he had understood correctly and she nodded eagerly at his words, smiling hugely and finally speaking quite a lot.

“It was _sooo **coool**_.   _She said: Turn Left, **Turn Left!!!** _  And we popped this _HUUUUGE_ curb thing.  I swear we were _totally_ _airborne_ …  Then it was like everything slowed down and the trees were like … “  She started to make slow motions on either side of her head to represent the zipping of trees and Quinlan just stared at her in quiet awe.  He was both entertained by her inebriated state as well as in silent shock over the statements themselves.  That was exactly how he perceived things when he _sprinted_.   He would be sure to ask her about it again when she was … more _clear headed_ and less amusing.

“Swoosh … _swoosh_ … swoosh … **_swooooooosh_** … and then Gus was talkin’ all slow like … OH MY _GAAAWWWWWD PUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTOOOOOOOO._ ”  She exaggerated the last two words, making them long and drawn out as she mimicked speech in slow motion before Gus spoke up, shaking his head in denial.

“ _Estas loca, chica._  You are **_SO BAKED_** right now and I never said _Puto_.”  

She shrugged as she laughed, “That’s the only curse word I know in Spanish, _sorry_.  But that’s **_totally_** what happened. **_I swear._** ”  She scrunched her nose at the dry man-made river, “Oh … and then the ditch happened, but that was _totally Hathų_ ’s fault.”  Quinlan stared at her in continued quiet awe, unsure how to respond.

“ _Who the fuck is Hathų?_ ”  Gus asked

Quinlan ignored the question as he chastised the _Boxer_ next _,_ making sure she had closed the passenger door and was buckling her seatbelt within before he spoke candidly“You should _not_ have allowed her to come.”  

“ _You serious_ , bruh?”  Gus smiled, “She was goin’ regardless of what the fuck we said.  I just figured it was better if she didn’t go alone.”

 

* * *

 

The fallen prince had left hours before and Barqan waited patiently in his tent.  He did not rejoin the fire as he knew his old friend would be coming eventually, and once dawn had started, he wished to gaze upon the _Face of God_ one last time, venturing out of his tent as he walked beyond the camp of the people he had been charged to protect.

He sat down and watched the sun peek up above the horizon, taking in its glory again.  It was when he stood to return that he felt the rumble and saw the figure approach from above, landing precisely in front of him.

He had not seen Michael since his _Keepers_ had released him, and though he understood what the visit might result in, he was still pleased to see his brother again.  It would also be good to speak his native language with another again.  He spoke Enochian now.

“It’s been a long time, _old friend_.”  The golden haired Archangel started the conversation as he tucked his wings firmly against his back.

“It has, indeed.  It seems much has transpired since last we spoke.”  Barqan would play his cards carefully.

“Not much.  My brother still causes trouble, if that’s what you mean.”  They both knew this was _not_ what he meant.

Barqan played along and nodded, “I have seen his trouble.  Though I am concerned that _Heaven_ does not step forward to aid in this fight.”

“ _The Creator_ ‘s absent again.  We were told to keep our interference on Earth to a minimum until _The Return_.”  Michael offered as he paced around the lush forest surrounding them, not looking his old friend in the face.

“Ah.  I remember the last time _he_ left us alone.”  Barqan chuckled, “Unfortunate events ensued then as well.”

“Indeed.”  Michael nodded.  “But, we’ll rise now.  The Army marches in three days to arrest this _threat_.”

Barqan tensed as Michael walked behind him and stopped.  He did not turn to face his brother.  “Then I assume my services will no longer be required?”  He heard the sword unsheath, though Michael had tried to make it as quiet as possible.

“Correct, _old friend_.  I’ve come to _release_ you from this task.”

“You have come to release me from more than _just_ this task though, my _brother_.”  Barqan sighed causing Michael to suddenly hesitate.

“Forgive me, _Black King_.  You can’t understand.  None can know my secret.”  He heard the armour move with the motion of the Hayyoth raising his blade.

“You have changed _much_ since last I saw you.”  He was actually surprised he still breathed and he turned now to stare his friend in the eyes, “Have you destroyed others for this _secret_ yet?”

“I … “ Michael hesitated again, gripping his blade firmly.

“Your hesitation belies your guilt.”

“I’m sorry, Barqan.  But–”

“You have slaughtered thousands of my kind.  This should be no different to you, should it?  Yet you hesitate.”  These were dangerous words, but they were calculated.  He _loved_ his friend and he had seen the torment that the _Creator_ had burdened him with, “But that has always been _by command_ , yes?  Will this be the first time you have taken a soul by _your own choice_?”

Michael’s blade sunk slowly and he shook his head to the Black King, “I’ve made choices, and I’ll _suffer_ for their consequences.”  His voice cracked timidly as the _Black King_ saw the tears forming in his eyes, “But I can’t undo them now.  There’s no turning bac–”

“I am less your enemy than you realize, _Spotted One._ ”  Barqan smiled at him now and Michael furrowed his brow.

“ _Everyone_ ‘s my enemy now, _brother_.  I am **_corrupt_**.  I have been **_tainted_**.”

Barqan laughed loudly now and the sudden onset of joy confused the Archangel, “You think you are the only one?”

Michael stuttered, “What do you mean?  I have destroyed the others.  You speak of Ozyrel or–”

“Do you think you are the only one who feels the burn of the corruption?  The torment of it?”

Michael shook his head, “All who were tainted have been cleansed.”  He raised his sword again now as a tear trailed down his face, “I’m _sorry_.”

“Do you remember?”  Barqan asked him, “At the end of the war, that day when you came down, taking my brothers for sentence and spared me?”

“You were the only one that I was _allowed_ to spare.  I _begged_ for leniency for the others.  But _you_ were the _only one_ of the great seven kings of the _marid_ who _hadn’t_ been _corrupted_.  You were the _only one_ that I didn’t …”

“That you did _not_ destroy.  Yes.  But … I was _not_ without _corruption_ , **_brother_**.”

Michael blinked, “You had no children.  You had not committed _the_ _sin_.  You had no–”

“I had a _daughter_ and though her life was brief, I named her Sathariel.”

“A daughter?”  Michael scoffed.

“She was born _minutes_ before you arrived that day… **_mere minutes_**.”  Barqan felt his own voice tremble.  “I held her in my arms and touched her _just_ the once.   _ **[Shamhurish](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FShamhurish&t=ZTNmZDgyYzhkNzM3MmRkNDYzNDQ4MDM2OTYzNzMzM2U2YTdkODRhNSxwYXdXWVUwTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156992138578%2Fchapter-16&m=1)**_ and _**[Abu Mihriz](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Fjinn.wikia.com%2Fwiki%2FAl-Ahmar&t=ZGE2NmEwNDA2NjIyZjljYjNhM2JlY2RjMDVkZjRlZTRlZTkwYzZlNyxwYXdXWVUwTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156992138578%2Fchapter-16&m=1)**_ held me back as _**[Azazel](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAzazel&t=ZTc0OGFjZDE4MDE2N2ZlNGUwN2ExMTc3YzM0MDgyZWVlMjA2YzgxNCxwYXdXWVUwTQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F156992138578%2Fchapter-16&m=1)**_ ripped her from me.”

Michael’s stance relaxed slightly as Barqan continued his confession.  “I screamed, I begged, by the gods _I fought them_ , but _Azazel_ said he would not lose everyone **_that day_**.  None but those three had seen her … my child.  He burned her body and soul from existence right before my eyes … so that **_you_** would not find her, and then he commanded that I survive to lead _the rest_ and to ensure that their deaths would not be in vain.”

Michael shook his head at this disclosure, “You are lying.  The ** _Creator_** would have _known_.”

“You still think _him_ entirely **_infallible_** , do you?”

Michael continued to shake his head, “You weren’t _corrupt_.  You weren’t–”

“It is _not_ corruption, _Silver One_.  It is like an _opening_ of your soul.  When everything that you feel _comes crashing_ into you and you almost think you cannot breath.  That you might drown and suff–”

“ ** _Suffocate_**.”  Michael finished his friend’s sentence as he lowered his sword entirely now and a sense of relief washed over him.  “I didn’t know … _I didn’t know_ … I’m sorry, Barqan.”

“Do as you must.  Do as you think you need to to protect your **_secret_**.  But do so knowing that you are _not alone_.”

Michael stared for a moment in utter silence, finally sighing heavily as defeat washed over him, “I … I don’t know what to do anymore.”  He confessed.

“Whatever you must do, realize that you will _still not be alone_.  There are _others_ … just like us.”

Michael cocked his head to the right, “No.  I have destroyed all those who–”

Barqan laughed again, “You think yourself _infallible_ as well?”

He had never seen the _Hayyoth_ as speechless as he was at this moment and he moved towards him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “This is a _good_ day, my friend.  Rejoice in it.”

“How is it a _good_ day?”

“I believe I shall continue to exist.”  Barqan _hoped_ , “And you have realized something _important_.”

Michael choked at what he could have possible _learned_ from this conversation, other than his friend’s _own weakness_ and _damnation_ , “What did I realize?”  He asked as he re-sheathed his blade.

“That you are now on the _moral_ _side_ of things.  That you were a _villain_ before.  Now you can be a _hero_ along with the _rest of_ **_us_** …”

“ _Us_?”  Michael asked before he felt the low rumble all around him and Barqan turned to face the smoke of the other _Djinn_ that had consumed the forest quietly all around them.

_“The rest of the Fallen, brother.”_

* * *

 

The next day came and went without incident, although it did snow again.  Knowing where his _Father_ ’s forces were amassed helped him put his worry at ease.  Though Barqan had been absent, he’d helped dispatch the orders to _The Keepers of the Fire_ in the morning, returning with plenty of time to help with the various chores that the modern humans simply weren’t trained for, however they were coming up to speed quickly.

Ephraim, as it turned out, was actually a very good hunter once he ran out of alcohol, and once she’d gotten over the squeamishness of it, Dutch was fairly competent at skinning and gutting.  Dawn actually fished and returned with catches this time and Gus made himself useful in whatever way he could.  Fet took over cutting wood for Quinlan and it actually seemed like everyone had settled into a good routine.  There was _little_ to no bickering.  The redheaded doctor had chosen to make herself scarce and Quinlan thought that was the best idea, given his continued starvation.

For the most part, it was _almost_ peaceful here, but Quinlan understood this was simply the calm before the storm.  He kept his distance from everyone as he feared his growing lack of control and near the later part of the day, he reluctantly went in search of a beast to consume, but found nothing but rodents.  No, he wasn’t _that_ desperate quite yet.  He could maintain his composure for a bit longer.  When night rolled around and everyone went to sleep, he sat alone on watch outside and was surprised when Gus greeted him after midnight with an offer of relief.

“It is not necessary.”  He tried but the _Boxer_ was convincing.

“I know you haven’t slept for days, bruh.  ‘Sides, I can’t sleep anyways.  The Doc snores like a mother fuckin’ freight train.  Take a break man … or maybe I’ll just keep you company then?”  This was a bluff and Quinlan knew he was just threatening him with something Quinlan would find distasteful.

“Very well.”

However, when he entered the dark cabin, Quinlan stared around at the sleeping humans and noticed there really wasn’t anywhere for him to rest.  Fet was stretched out very uncomfortably on one recliner, Dutch across the other.  Ephraim had been sharing the blanket on the ground with Gus.  Quinlan did not think the Doctor would appreciate the dhampir curling up next to him unexpectedly.  As much as the look on the Doctor’s face might entertain him in the morning, he would not risk that, as strigoi had the unfortunate habit of nestling up to others who are in their proximity while they sleep.

He glanced over to Dawn, who had won the usage of the couch by being _nearly_ the perfect length to stretch out across it.  He could tell that everyone was deep in slumber as they chests heaved heavily up and down and their eyes moved about underneath their lids.

He considered going back outside to relieve Gus, but realized that he was, indeed, _quite tired_ and his growing weakness only exacerbated it.  The last time he had slept was when he was rendered unconscious by the Army, and that sleep had not actually been very … _fulfilling_.  That was four days ago now.

Given what he had learned about sharing dreams with her, he was almost worried about going to sleep while _she_ slept.  He wondered if he had been avoiding it due to the sheer embarrassment of the revelation.  He had been _so very straightforward_ with her in that dream … _He pushed the thought from his mind._

Quinlan removed his coat and jacket, then his guns and holsters, followed by his vest and gloves.  His boots and socks were next.  For some reason, he’d always hated sleeping with socks.  He considered not removing his buckle and belt, but did so anyways as it was always easier to sleep when he felt unencumbered.  He took Gus’ pillow from next to the Doctor and laid down on the bare ground, not far from the hearth.  It had been some number of years since he had slept next to a smouldering wood fire and the crackle brought him immediately into a relaxed state.

Staring up towards the ceiling for a while, he interlocked his fingers across his stomach and found himself looking back towards the _Poet_.  Her mouth was open and she was breathing the loudest of them all.  He didn’t find the breathing itself overly distracting, but the fact that she was laying there, so close …

Eventually, he nearly dozed off, listening to her breath when a sudden thought rocked him back awake.  She hadn’t been walking in her sleep lately, but was it possible that she might walk?

He thought about moving his spot on the floor from the fire to the door, but he realized there were two exits.  Even if he let Gus know to watch out, he was only _human_.  He would only be able to watch the front door.  Quinlan dismissed it.  He would hear her if she got up, if she started to walk or if she fiddled with any of the doors.  Wouldn’t he?   _Perhaps_.  He **_was_** very tired though.  When he was _this_ tired, he had slept through louder noises in his younger years.

_Hmmmm._

_Perhaps_ he could move the coffee table and sleep in front of the couch or move something else in front of the back door?  That noise would surely wake more than one person.  There were several objects on the table that might shift and fall.  He had no idea why he was making such a big deal about any of it.

_Damnation._

He stood and looked over the couch, taking note that it was much wider than her body really needed … Perhaps … Quinlan found himself smiling at the thought of it … Perhaps they could _share_ it?

He should ask her first though.   _Shouldn’t he?_  He recalled the dreams again, and how he had been _so very straightforward_.  She had not seemed to mind, did she?  Perhaps she was so deeply asleep she would not even wake?

If he would attempt this, he scolded himself to keep both of his hungers in check.  The hunger for her blood _and_ the hunger for her body.

He would later realize that he had failed to take into account the hunger for her _attention._

 

* * *

> _Daylight breaks through and the tide goes too_
> 
> _I can see the road this time to be beside you_
> 
> _If I wait too long will you hear my song_
> 
> _Would you mind for me to build my home beside you?_
> 
> _Found you in the blue light, waist high_
> 
> _Colors beyond our eyes_
> 
> _Something in the way you glow_

She was _completely_ asleep when she felt the movement and her eyes darted open immediately as she felt a warm body slide down, between her and the back of the couch.  She had been facing forwards and she turned her head sharply to see who had invaded the space behind her.

“Quin–”

“ _Shhhh_ ,”  It was barely a whisper and the breath on her ear made it feel as if his mouth was less than an inch from her as he said it, “Do not wake the others.”  She felt his arm come around her as he laid his palm on the cushion in front of her.  In harmony with his movement, she tucked her own arms across her body and chest so that she would not mistakenly graze him.

She attempted to turn around to him again, but his arm held her in place, “What are you doing?”  She asked in _almost_ innocent confusion.

“I am _tired_ and I do not wish to worry about you walking out into the _wild_ while I sleep.”

Her eyes were wide with embarrassment as she breathed back, “I don’t think I do that any–”

“Can you _assure_ me you do not?”

She frowned to herself.  She knew she couldn’t and _he_ knew she couldn’t.  “I just–”  Could he feel the blush that had overtaken her with his sudden embrace?  Could he hear her heart rate?

 _Shit_.  Of course he could.

“And …”  He paused before continuing, “I am **_cold_**.  There are no more blankets.”  What?  Wait … Did he even get _cold_?  He hugged her slightly before exhaling a relaxed sigh, pulling his feet into the blanket’s confines by bending his long legs to fit entirely on the couch behind her.  He used his frigid feet to find hers.   _Oh crap_ , his toes **_were_** cold, well at least colder than hers.  He’d been outside in the snow for hours and she suddenly felt guilty about him always having to take watch for _them_ to sleep.

Assuming the conversation was over, he lowered his head from her ear to the other half of her pillow and continued to wiggle the warmth from her feet.   _God damn heat-vampire!_

She tried to pull away and his disappointment was clear, “Go back to sleep.”  He commanded in a loud whisper from the pillow behind her, trapping her feet with his heels and preventing her from further escape.

 _Was he serious?  Go to sleep?  ?!?!_ Dawn did _not_ trust herself being this close to him.  She would undoubtedly do something stupid and _entirely unprovoked_ again if she was _this_ close to him.

“I can just get up if you are worried–”  She offered.  If she was such a burden, then she could simply get up and take the watch for him.  She would be a better guard than whoever had relieved him, right?

“If you find my closeness _that_ distasteful, I will simply return to the watch.”  That was not really a _compromise_ , but his implication made her sad.  She hadn’t meant to make him feel … **_distasteful_**.  She knew how that felt, but she just didn’t want to do something they would _both_ regret.  She didn’t want to embarrass herself again.

“No, that’s not what–”

“I will go then.”  He offered as he began to pull himself out of the space between her and the back of the couch, causing her to pull his arm sharply back down.  She caught a glimpse of his grin in the fire light.

“No … _No_.  I’m sorry.  It’s fine.”  She said as he threatened to pull out of her tight grip.

“Are you _certain_?”  She could almost hear the smile on his lips as he prodded.

“It’s fine.”

“I do not mind going back outside.”

“No, it’s fine. I… I just don’t want to be a _burden_.”  Once she had said it, she realized he had manipulated this outcome from the conversation.

_God damn it, Quinlan._

“Oh for the love of FUCKING CHRIST … _I don’t care WHO takes what WATCH. **CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE?**_ ”  Ephraim called with a muffled voice from his spot on the floor which caused Dawn to jump as she blushed even more.  Dutch chuckled lowly.   _Oh god, people are listening to them._

Quinlan collapsed instantaneously back under the blanket as he pulled it around them snuggly, pulling his feet back under it and wiggling his cold toes around hers to steal more of their warmth.  His arm found the same spot it was in before, as he laid it over her, placing his palm face down on the cushion in front of her to ensure she would _not_ be able to sneak away while he slept.

He used the readjustment to close any gap that existed between their heads as he pushed his forehead against the back of hers and breathed in deeply, nestling into her with an _almost_ inaudible rattle.

 

* * *

 

He felt her eventually relax under his arm and this caused him to grin ever so slightly.   _Yes_ , this was much nicer than the floor _indeed_ and he closed his eyes, not wishing to move a muscle in case she was close to falling asleep again.  He lay there motionless for a number of minutes before he opened his eyes again and stared into her hair, breathing it in quickly before he swiftly propped himself up with his free arm, resting his chin in his palm as he stared at her silently for a few more minutes.

She shifted briefly and Quinlan collapsed back to the pillow quickly, not wishing her to see him staring.   _Was it creepy?  Would she find it creepy?_  If she was staring at him, he would not find it creepy.   _Hmmm_.

Her arms were folded around herself quite tightly, _fortifying_ herself very well from the touch of his arm, though that did not stop Quinlan from considering other points of weakness from which he might be able to attack.   _Attack_?  Perhaps a better word would be _invade_.  Quinlan held in a chuckle.

 _No_.  He lectured himself.  He promised he would keep his hungers in check.

He closed his eyes and told himself to go to sleep harshly.  He was so _very tired_ , he just needed to relax and … he felt her toe move ever so slightly against his and though he was unsure it was intentional, he returned movement as he smirked.  Her toes were still slightly warmer than his and he fiddled his colder digits against her heat as he heard her grumble lowly under her breath, “ _Stop fidgeting._ ”

Quinlan found himself pouting somewhat, “ _Sorry_.”  He whispered to her simply.

“I thought you were _tired_?”  She murmured back quietly.

“I am.”  Quinlan laid back down and continued to pout slightly.   _He was tired.  Damnation._  What was his intention right now anyways?  He said he would _not_ hunger for her and if he touched her, he knew his body might react embarrassingly.  It was not like anything could be done right now, with all the other humans in the room.

_Go to sleep._

He closed his eyes and laid complacent for a number of minutes, waiting for her breathing to deepen as a signal she had gone back to sleep again, however it did not.  Her heart rate was still elevated ever so slightly and he immediately propped himself back up and gently brushed the hair from her cheek, tucking it back behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper as quietly as possible, _“Are you sleeping?”_

“Not anymore.”  She grunted a low complaint, but he already knew she wasn’t and he smiled as he bit his lower lip before wiggling his toes to steal more heat from her pleasant warmth, pressing them around her skin.  He brought his toes up the center of the bottom of her foot, which invoked a snicker from her suddenly with his tickling touch.   _Ah hah!  A strategic weakness!_  He mused to himself as he repeated the action, tickling her into another hushed giggle.

 _Hehehe_.

In a rushed effort to withdraw from his onslaught, she retreated her feet away from his entirely, but in the process, pushed her hips closer as her backside pressed into him.  This caused his body to begin to tense.

 _Mmmmm_.  He purred slightly.

_Wait … No, NO!  Oh gods.  This might have been a bad idea …_

He instantly arrested his invasion as he pulled away from her as far as the back of the couch would allow, breathing carefully as he dropped back down to the pillow again and Dawn relaxed again under his arm.

“ _Jerk_.”  She whispered plainly and through her insult, he found himself reignited his desire to _pester_ her yet again.

He propped himself up, speaking softly into her ear, “I know you did not wish to discuss it, but … “  He breathed a deep sigh as he’d been waiting for days to get this off his chest, “I am sorry for my actions in the sewer.”

“ _The sewer?_ ”  She asked.

“Yes … _um_ … “ He cleared his throat, “When we _dreamed_ together last.”

“… oh … …. “ He could feel the tension in her murmured response, “We don’t have to talk about it.  Go back to sleep.”

He nodded and plopped himself back down onto the pillow yet again.  At least he had apologized, whether or not she wished to discuss it further mattered not.

_Hmmm … However …_

He propped himself back up and questioned further, “Do you not wish to discuss it because you _disliked_ it?”

His question was met with immediate silence, but he heard her take in a deep breath before she spoke next, “What does that mean anyways?”

Quinlan blinked, “What does _what_ mean?”  This was progress.  He was pleased that she wished to discuss it with him.

“Tee-bee soont may-ah.”  She stated and he felt his face flush with heat suddenly as he blushed behind her.

_Damnation._

“… oh … …. It means–”  He had fully meant to confess the meaning of his statement to her but their conversation was savagely and viciously cut short as a firm and surprisingly heavy pillow connected with both of their faces.  It had been flung by Vasily with full force from across the coffee table.

**_“DA NEXT PERSON TO TALK WILL GET MY FOOT UP THEIR ASS!”_ **

 

* * *

 

Dutch stared down at the couch with the most pleased look she might have ever had as she said quietly, “I have _never_ missed **_Instagram_** so much in my _entire life_ … as I do _right now_ at this _very instant._ ”

Fet looked over from his recliner as he had just begun to stir awake with the noise of Ephraim and Dutch shifting about and as he finally stood, he stared down at the couch trying to make sense of her words, _“What?  Wait … When da fuck did dis happen?!?”_

Dutch hit him in the stomach with the back of her hand, trying to shush his volume but the two who slumbered didn’t stir an inch and Gus laughed from the kitchen as he was making himself a cup of coffee.

“ _Ese_ , if you didn’t see _that_ months ago, then you are _blind_ , bruh.”

Fet blinked and turned to Ephraim, asking inquisitively, “You knew about dis?”

Ephraim shrugged, “Come on Fet, he threatened to _bleed_ you for her.”

“Yeah, but I just thought he was bein’ Quinlan, ya know.  Dat’s just part of slick’s winnin’ personality right?”  He furrowed his brows down at the two who still hadn’t moved and Dutch slapped him on the back before she urged him away.

“Come on, let’s go see what we can find to eat.  Let them sleep in.  He deserves it, yeah?”

“But, it’s snowin’ again.”  He glanced outside, “Looks like a storm might be blowing in.”

“Exactly.  We gotta get stuff done _before_ that happens.”  Gus countered.

Fet nodded and all the humans piled out of the cabin together in a group to start their morning chores.  Even the red headed doctor sheepishly joined them from her room as they all ventured outside, leaving the snoozing pair undisturbed.

Dawn had turned around to face Quinlan at some point during the night, and her face was nuzzled snuggly into his chest, her forehead resting against his sternum, while her small hands clutched fistfuls of his shirt.  Both of his arms were firmly wrapped around her, keeping her close to him while he rattled loudly and uncontrollably through his partially open mouth.

This _snore_ was far louder than any Ephraim was even capable of making and though it vibrated fiercely through both of them, it did not wake her.  It had only deepened her slumber significantly.  Hidden from prying eyes under the blanket, their legs were completely intertwined, locked together while their toes occasionally rubbed against the others.

They remained that way, unmoving and peaceful for another hour at least … 


	116. 16.5 - Fruition

> _ Settle down with me _
> 
> _ Cover me up _
> 
> _ Cuddle me in _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Lie down with me _
> 
> _ And hold me in your arms _
> 
>  
> 
> _ And your heart's against my chest, your lips pressed to my neck _
> 
> _ I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet _
> 
> _ And with a feeling I'll forget, I'm in love now _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Kiss me like you wanna be loved _
> 
> _ You wanna be loved _
> 
> _ You wanna be loved _
> 
> _ This feels like falling in love _
> 
> _ Falling in love _
> 
> _ We're falling in love _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Settle down with me _
> 
> _ And I'll be your safety _
> 
> _ You'll be my lady _
> 
>  
> 
> _ I was made to keep your body warm _
> 
> _ But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms _  
> 

  


As her eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light flooded in and she found herself staring at Quinlan who was watching her intently from the other side of the shared pillow.  As she became fully awake, she saw him grin ever so slightly.  They were facing each other now and only mere inches apart.  There was a long moment of tension as Dawn looked back at him and she fought to keep her own smile hidden.

“ _Hello_.”  Quinlan said finally and his grin became more pronounced as he stared at her with wide and shockingly blue-white eyes.

“ _Morning_.”  She managed to squeak as she felt increasingly embarrassed.  She attempted to bring her head up and around to look for everyone else, but his hand was instantly on her shoulder as his eyes pleaded with her to wait.

“We are alone.”  He confessed to her as his grin seemed to widen and he bit delicately into his lower bit as his gaze shifted between her mouth and her eyes.

“Where is everyone?”  She croaked as she cleared her throat.   _Don’t panic._

“I do not know.  I cannot hear them.  It matters not.”  He shrugged, staring into her eyes.

“Should we go … “ She gulped, “uh … look for them?”  Her nerves had definitely gotten the better of her as he would not divert his attention from her eyes.  She knew she was holding her breath and she tried to command herself to breath, but she was not compliant.  What about her breath?   _Noooooo_!!!  Oh god, her breath … he could probably _smell_ it.   She attempted to get up again and his hand pressed on her shoulder gently, preventing her from fleeing.

“Just wait.”  He said.  “There is no rush.”  His eyes fluttered down to her mouth briefly before finding their place again deep into her eyes and she surrendered to his hand as she sunk back into the tiny space where their bodies seemed to be intertwined.  He was so warm, but it was nice, because the cabin itself was freezing again.

_“Ok, but–”_

“May I _kiss_ you?”  He asked suddenly, yet slowly and absolutely.  There was neither doubt nor apprehension in his voice and he purred slightly at the end of the question, glancing down to her mouth as he rattled tenderly through his words.

> “Wait … what?  Is he _asking_?”
> 
> “Say **_no_**.”
> 
> “We _want_ to.  Why would we say no?”
> 
> “This is the same Quinlan that refused to kiss us on _several occasions_.  He treated us like a–”
> 
> “Truth.”  She interrupted herself, not wanting to revisit _that word_ again, even in her mind.

“My breath is _really_ terr–”  She started but he didn’t allow her the time to finish as he closed the small distance between them suddenly and pressed his lips against her with delicate vigor, breathing out a sigh of relief from his nose before he pulled back to gauge her reaction.

 

* * *

He had watched her sleep for some time before she finally woke.  He had hoped they might _dream_ together, but he had no dreams at all.  He assumed it was because he was simply _that_ _exhausted_ or perhaps she did not wish it.  But he woke before her and he watched her sleep, patiently waiting as he thought about what he might say.  They were completely alone now.

_Hmmm_.  When she did wake, he had planned many things, but the only thing that escaped his mouth was a single word.

“ _Hello_.”

_Oh my good lord, Quintus.  Hello?!_  He felt himself grinning like a mad fool even while he chastised himself mentally.  His mind raced with commands.

_Take her.  Do it.  Take her now.  You are General Quintus Sertorius.  You have always taken what you want and you want this.  By the gods you want this.  Take it. **TAKE WHAT YOU WANT!**_

“May I kiss you?”  He finally asked.

His mind was a battle of chaos with itself now:   _What_?!  WHAT?!  (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

When he thought she might refuse him and she began to stutter an excuse that he cared nothing about, he stole a long chaste kiss from her lips and he pulled back to see her reaction.  It was so very different from the dream.  In the dream, there had been no sense of smell, touch or taste.  It had simply been the _idea_ of something and now that he had tasted her lips he started down at them while he licked their flavor from his.

She furrowed her brows and he knew whatever was going to come out of her lips next would be to shut him down so he leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers again, halting her pending words before they could attempt to diffuse his mounting passion.  His body stirred as he felt her lips return the soft action again.  She stopped him from pulling immediately away this time and the touch was prolonged.

“You don’t _have_ to kiss me.”  No, no, no.  Do not do this.  He knew his words were shit, he was a **_fucking idiot_** that night.   ** _No_**.  He came in for another brief third embrace before he pulled back to gaze into her and decipher her reaction to his timid affections.

“ _I wish it_.”  He confessed quietly to assure her but her brows furrowed again and he knew her mind was mulling over regretful memories.  He attempted to halt them again with a fourth, less chaste kiss, as he pressed his lips more firmly, allowing the moisture his mouth to touch hers as he parted his lips slightly during it.  Her eyes were closed when he returned from this one, waiting eagerly for her to react again as the questions began to mount within him.   _Did she like this?  What did she think of his strange lips?  Did his taste displease her?  Did she want him to continue?_

“You don’t want _that_ from me.  I’m not h–”  She muttered with her eyes still closed, her hand trailing up to his shoulder to push him slightly.

“But, you _offered_ me _this_.”  He interrupted and stole a sixth kiss as he was shortening the duration of rest between each one.  Did she not remember making him this offer on the couch at the house?  Perhaps that was just a dream?  No.  When they shared, there was a type of electricity to it.  “And I _accepted_.  Or do you _not_ recall?”  He shared a seventh kiss with her, always making sure to keep his tongue secure.  It was one of the more inhuman parts of him and he did not wish to deter her with his monstrousness.

This seventh one was as chaste as the first and he finished it by brushing the tip of her nose with his before he pulled back to gauge her response yet again.  She was so very hard to read right now.  He would mull over and learn from this all later as he was counting each one to categorize it and solidify it to his memory.

“I _offered_ you _this_?”  She seemed to be genuinely confused as she smiled slightly.

“ ** _Intimacy_**.”  An eighth was taken and he saw the recognition danced across her spotted face as her cheeks blushed with color slightly and her heart rate jumped.   _ **Yes** , he knew it! _ They had shared that dream even back then, even before he had freed her.  He stole a ninth but this was different as he felt her mouth part gently and her own moisture brushed his lips as he moaned slightly at its unexpectedness.

“ _Mmmm_.”  He looked down to her lips as he licked her moisture from his and his entire body seemed to come alive at once.  He lightly pulled her jaw down with his thumb before he had his tenth kiss and they _shared_ the exchange of moisture this time.

This was the last one he counted as it became of flurry of them suddenly and he found himself purring and moaning at the experience.  He had _never_ actually _just_ kissed someone _this_ much.  Just over and over and over again.  Usually when it had happened, it was short and just sometimes required before _copulation_ of some kind.  He had _never_ just kissed someone over and over again and he suddenly realized his arms had come around her, pulling her closer to him, crushing her chest against his, but being careful not to push his hardness against her.

“ ** _Savolium_**.”  He purred to her and he waited for her to repeat it before he returned to her mouth never defining it for her.  He kept his tongue at bay although he felt hers brush against his lips and he suddenly twitched at the unexpected sensation of it.   _Gods, she was warm_ , warmer than _humans_ generally were, that is, but not quite as warm as he.  His mind raced with possibilities.

_Intimacy vs. Pleasure.  Intimacy. **INTIMACY**.  Hmmm … Intimacy **vs**. Pleasure?  Intimacy **and** Pleasure?   **AND** **PLEASURE**.  Why not both? _  The two **together** might be even better than he’d ever imagined …

_Patience Quintus.  Good gods. **Maintain control.**_

He was maintaining completely control and he felt a swell of pride in himself.  He _nearly_ believed he had regained _all of his lost discipline_ until his hand traveled down her side, gliding over her shirt as it found its way down to grab a handful of the flesh between her butt and her thigh when he realized she wasn’t wearing _any pants_.

He felt underwear, but … _no pants?!_   Until this point, he’d felt her legs against his _through_ his own pants, but he had just assumed she was also still wearing hers.  This should not be a shock to him, as this was _normal_ for her; she only wore a sleeping shirt at the house before.  He should have been _expecting_ it, but the shock of her bare skin cause him to twitch massively, suddenly, and uncontrollably.  He pulled back abruptly from her, finding her green eyes wide with a combination of shock and concern over his sudden retreat but his hand remained where it was as he gripped it hard but denying his desire to push himself against her.

_Shit.  What else was she **not** wearing right now?_  His eyes grew wide as he realized he had been so very focused on her lips and she had been so fortified with herself last night, he had not noticed yet.  He moved the cuff of the shirt away from her neck and past her shoulder with his middle finger, exposing her trapezius to him and proving his suspicion correct:   _there was no strap._  He kissed the skin where it should have been before he twitched again, planting more kisses up her neck as he grazed the faded scar he’d left on her, before finding her mouth again and kissing her solidly, all the while fighting with himself to reach beneath her shirt and touch her bare skin.

_This was not a dream and there was nothing to stop him.  Take what you want Quintus! **TAKE WHAT YOU WANT!!!**_

“May I touch you?”  He found himself asking loudly over the sound of his own thundering heart and his mind screamed at his cowardice, but part of him new this was not so.  He had been forceful before and he would not make that mistake _again_.

She blinked at the question, trying to fully internalize it, stuttering in response, “T-T-Touch me?  But you’re already _touching_ me aren–”

_Nope. Enough talking … enough._   _She did not say no and he was done with words._ He pressed his lips to hers as his finger traced the outline of her shirt collar one more time touching the soft skin around it.  Quinlan confidently yet nervously placed his palm over her covered breast and gripped it tightly causing him to rattle intensely.  He had not touched a woman like this in almost four centuries and his own sounds were so loud he almost didn’t hear her slow groan under it and he began to knead it greedily with his fingers as he mouth continued to work against hers, nibbling slightly at her lower lip this time.

_Oh hell._  He did not have small hands.  His grip was actually quite large but he could not grasp the entirely of her curve within it and this actually incensed him more as he wished to touch the bare skin of it.  This desire only increased after he felt the nipple harden with his gentle massaging.  He honestly never felt the need for suckling on these before, but _right now_ , he _needed_ to put his lips on it, to move it gently between his lips and even his teeth to harden it further.

Don’t twitch.   _Don’t twitch.  Damn it.  Don’t_ –  Quinlan twitched, sneering a curse word under his breath before he reached down to pull her shirt up but she immediately halted his action and pulled it back down, _just as she had done to him in the room that damned night._  Her eyes were a flurry of concern as he pouted to her suddenly, thrusting his lower lip out and furrowing his brows.

“What if they come back?”  She queried and he shook his head back and forth.

“No, they are nowhere near us.”  He lied.  He’d actually already heard them approaching.  Clumsy footsteps and friendly banter as they walked up the road to the cabin.  They had minutes at most, but the humans might not even disturb them, right?  He kissed again, surrendering to her refusal as he returned to grab her curve over the shirt and his inconsistent rattle turned into a gentle and constant purr before he caught a whiff of _her_ body responding to him, preparing for him … _desiring him_.  It was wafting up through the blanket and his eyes widened massively as the scent grew more pronounced and mixed with her already angelic aroma.

_Oh good gods.  Don’t twitch.  Don’t do it.  Don’t–_ Quinlan twitched again as he felt himself losing control at once.  Her heart raced faster than his now, though he had no idea how that was possible for his thundered within his chest at a deafening pace.  He felt his eyes closing as his hand abandoned her breast and returned to her thigh while his mouth found its way to her neck, kissing, then nibbling, and ultimately _biting_ her.

He heard her yelp but he was lost in his memories … back in that factory room. Gods, that smell. Her Earthly, beautifully floral musk overwhelmed every part of him and he replayed that smell and then … that _taste_ , like anise in his mouth, almost liquorice.  Every time he had _tasted_ it, the lasting presence of it lingered on his tongue for _hours after._

“ _QUINLAN_!”  Her voice was whirlwind of panic and fear and he opened his eyes immediately as he found the stinger had escaped his mouth and his left hand clenched her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck to him.  He recoiled at a speed that amazed even him, releasing her absolutely as he backed off the couch, knocking the coffee table over as he stumbled back.

_Oh gods!_  His hunger for her blood had overwhelmed the one for her body and he had nearly … 

He staggered to his feet but his head swam with lightness as he stumbled before he catching  himself against the recliner.  He did not look to her eyes for he could not handle a certain look of _disappointment_ or even worse … _fear_ from her.

He grabbed at his clothes as he dressed himself fully and he offered a rushed and repeated apology, “I am sorry.   _I am so sorry._  I did not mean … _I am sorry._  I am _unwell_.   _I am so sorry_.”  He really was _nothing_ more than a _god damn monster._

“Quinlan, _please don’t go_.”  He could see out of the corner of his eyes that she clutched the blanket fiercely to her chest and her voice trembled.  “Please … don’t _just leave._ ”

He grabbed his weapons finally and before he opened the door to flee from her, he looked back to her face finally.  He deserved the punishment of her _disappointment_.  He deserved the punishment of her _fear_ , did he not?  But it wasn’t fear on her face.  When she looked at him, it _never was_.  Concern graced her little, square face.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to be –”  She said again and he shook his head firmly as he interrupted her mid-sentence.

“I am sorry for **_that_**.  It was _not_ my intention.  I promise it will **_never_** happen again.  I just need some air … ”  He had no other words to excuse himself and he fled from the cabin and out of her presence as fast as he could manage in his current state.

 

* * *

 

The door flew open and Quinlan rushed passed the three humans who were climbing the steps into the cabin, bumping directly into Fet on his way down and sending the big man tumbling to the ground.

_“Get out of my **fucking** way!!!”_  He screamed as he stepped over the fallen man and Gus quickly came to help him up as Quinlan hurried off towards the wilderness.

“Jesus H. Christ, what da fuck is wrong with him?”  Fet asked with wide eyes, dusting the snow off of his body and Gus shrugged.

“I dunno man.  He’s been outta whack for the last couple of days.”

For the first time that morning, Rebecca said something and she spoke as if she was pointing something obvious out, “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”  Fet asked, wide eyed and oblivious.

“He’s _starving_.  He’s been getting weaker for days now.”

Fet turned back to spy Quinlan right before he stumbled off into the woods out of view and into the thickening veil of snow, “Dat’s not good.”

 

* * *

 

He couldn’t even catch a god damn rodent now!  The little creature scurried underneath a massive log and Quinlan kicked it in aggravation before he gave up and sat down on it completely, the snow soaking through his jacket as he did so.

_Damnation._

Next time he would need to use a firearm perhaps.  Although, given the size of the thing, that was a bad idea.  He sighed loudly before coming back to his feet, not hearing the footsteps behind him until the person was nearly atop him and Quinlan reacted instinctively, turning around and sprinting the human man against the closest tree, pinning his back with such force that snow was jostled loose from the branches above and they were immediately covered with the cold, fluffy substance.

“Hey, it’s ok.  It’s just me.”  Fet’s eyes were huge but not really all that frightened.

Quinlan huffed, “It is dangerous to sneak up on me.”  He pushed him away forcefully as he brushed the snow from his head and shoulders.

“I didn’t, _man_.  I doubt I could even sneak up on a deaf person.”  Fet shrugged.

Quinlan did not appreciate the implication of that statement.  “What do you want?”  He sneered.

“You feelin’ ok, man?”

Did he walk all the way in the snow to ask him if he was alright?  “Go back to the others.”  He tried to command the big man.

“And if I don’t.”

“I am not playing, Vasily.  I am not in the mood–”

“Nah, ya aren’t in the mood for anything lately, huh?”

“What exactly are you implying, _Exterminator_?”  Quinlan was easily losing any amount of patience he had with the big man.  He did not need his hate or belittlement.  This was a dangerous thing for the Ukrainian to pull … _right now_.

“I …” Fet thought silently for a moment, “The lady doc says yer _starving_.  Dat true?”

“I am fine.”  Quinlan reeled back from the man and sat back down on the log, “I just need to find sustenance.”

“Ephraim got a rabbit this morning.  I’m sure he’d share.”

“I do not need your _charity_.”  He hissed.  The animosity that the dhampir was throwing the big man’s way caused the air to thicken with tension and Vasily moved back and forth in his stance as he became more nervous.  “I will catch something myself.  But I cannot do so with you scaring everything away.”

“Eph says ya can’t just eat animals though, ya need human blood?”  Quinlan regretted sharing that fact with the Doctor now and he did not grace Fet with an answer.

“Everyone can see it’s affectin’ you, man.”

“I’ve grown tired of this conversation.   _I am fine_.”  Quinlan stood and began to walk in the opposite direction from the cabin.  Perhaps he just needed to venture out a bit farther but the big man reached out for him, gripping his arm and actually causing Quinlan to pause for a moment.   _Bad idea._  He turned to threaten, but he saw concern on his bearded face as he shoved his other arm towards the dhampir.

“Here. Take what ya need.”  Fet took a deep breath and held it while he closed his eyes tightly, preparing himself mentally for being _fed on_.

Quinlan cocked his head to the right.  Was he … _offering_ himself to Quinlan?  He _hated_ him, didn’t he?  Quinlan pulled away instantly and scoffed at the offer, _“Did I not make myself clear?  I do not need your **charity**.”_

“If you are weak, den it puts us all in danger.”

“Leave me be, Mr. Fet.  Or I promise you will _regret_ it.”

“Regret what?  Ya can barely walk in a straight line.”

Was he challenging him?  He came forward and closed the distance between them as he stared up into the man’s face.  Fet closed his eyes tightly and turned his head away, “Do it.  Take what you need.”  His heart began to race as he spoke.

Quinlan had just wanted to intimidate, but now he turned away again.  This was too embarrassing for him at the moment.   _Damnation_.

“What?  Am I not good enough for you?”

Quinlan sneered at the statement, “You are _not food_.  I do not _feed on_ …”  He stopped himself quickly.

“What?  You got something against Ukrainians?  Or is it exterminators?  You an _extermiphobe_ , man?”  Fet laughed at the new word he’d created.

Quinlan brushed the newly fallen snow off the log and sat back down in roughly the same place as before before he finished his previous sentence, “ ** _Friends_**.”

Fet was immediately taken aback by the confessional statement and Quinlan lowered his head accepting the situation finally.  Taking a seat next to Quinlan on the log, Fet patted him on the shoulder, “Yeah, well … I ain’t gonna feed anyone who _isn’t a friend.  Yeah?_ ”

Quinlan sighed heavily.  He did not like having to depend on anyone.

Fet continued, “We depend on you, man.  Yer the only reason we’re all still alive.  I mean, I give a hard time, but even I know dat.”

Quinlan shook his head in shame, “I do not need–”

“You bein’ weak puts us _all_ at risk.  You shoulda said something already.”

“I thought I could handle it.  I thought an opportunity would present itself.  But it is still not necessary, I am strong enou–”

“You bein’ weak puts _her_ at risk.”  Fet manipulated him quickly and he was shocked at the Ukrainian’s nerve.

“I assume we are talking about _Miss Velders_?”

Fet smiled hugely, showing Quinlan his deep set dimples as he nudged him with his giant shoulder, “ _Sure_ _slick_ , whatever you say.”

_Hmmmm_.  All things considered, when he first met Fet, he did consider how long the large man would be able to sustain him.  They sat in silence for a very awkward moment before Fet finally spoke up nervously, “Uh, so … will it _hurt_?”

“Generally not much.  I am quick.  Unless you … _wish_ it to hurt?”  Quinlan mused as he enjoyed making his companion uneasy.

“Uh … _no_.  Uhh … How much you gonna need?”

“One or two liters.”  He would prefer two, but one would sustain him for another two days.  Fet likely had seven liters total, due to his size.  Better safe than sorry, right?  He looked at the big man as he nodded to himself and decided two liters would be best. “ ** _Two_**.”

Fet breathed heavily for a moment before beginning to pull his scarf free and Quinlan halted him, “Your arm is fine.”

“Ok.”  He rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm for the dhampir as he closed his eyes as tightly as possible again and he took a deep breath and held it.

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Mr. Fet.  I can always take the _kind_ new Doctor on a walk.”

Fet laughed out loud at the statement as he released his held breath and nearly opened his eyes until he felt the stinger sink silently into his arm.  Quinlan was actually surprised when Vasily didn’t make a sound at all, not even the standard whimper.

Quinlan was obviously shocked to suddenly realize that he had grown to like the big man quite a bit.

 

* * *

 

The storm was approaching and he could feel the temperature steadily declining all around him.  Fet had stumbled back towards the cabin and Quinlan stayed out in the cold to see if he could retrieve more food.  A single rabbit wouldn’t be enough to sustain all of them for the day and they would need to be shut into the cabin very soon.  So he ventured out farther, looking for something else to bring back.

A small part of him understood that he was simply delaying his return to the cabin for as long as possible.  His actions this morning caused him shame and he was hesitant to face her again.  He had _fucked_ up the first time in that room and now he had _fucked_ up the second time.  He should have known better than to try and touch her when he had been in such a starved state, but he had found himself incapable of resisting when he realized they were completely alone.

He walked and chastised himself further.  This is always what he would be.   _This monster._  Did she not deserve better than anything _he_ might be able to offer her.  What did he think could come from this, from his pursuit of her?  But, that was the very root of the problem, was it not?  He was not thinking.  All he could do now was feel.  And by the gods, he was **_feeling_**.  He had broken his own rule and he had _allowed_ her to care for him.   _No_.  He smirked slightly as he corrected himself.  She will do what she wishes, he had _no control_ over that.

He wiped the smile from his face as he _knew better than this_.  However he also knew he **_didn’t give a fuck anymore_**.  He knew what he wanted and he was tired of excuses.  He was tired of talking himself out of things.  He kicked another log as he passed it as he decided all at once that he’d had enough of these poor justifications to feel sorry for himself.  This amount of self pity was simply beneath him.

He was sure his _Poet_ did deserve better he but he was now utterly and completely resolved to give it to her.

Turning to head back to the cabin, he walked along a wide creek, half frozen but still running torrentuously as the snow began to drift down in a denser shower.  He felt himself invigorated with confidence as he smiled.  Nothing would deter him from just telling her the truth now.   ** _The Truth._**  Not those words that he had crushed her with _that damned night._  What he had said to her had been out of arrogance and cowardice.  He had said things out of some unnecessary loyalty to a love, already long dead, _gone_ and _nearly forgotten_.

He paused briefly in his stride as his fingers touched the circular locket in his front pocket tenderly before he fished it out, fumbling it in his fingers as he stared at the face on it again and realized it had to be the last time he would.  He had not _intentionally_ thought of _her_ … of _them_ … of _Tasa_ and of _Sura_ … _for weeks_.  Even when, on occasion, he had felt the object shift in his pocket, their memories had never stolen to the forefront of his mind and he felt no shame in it.

 

Holding the locket in his hand for a moment, he stared down at the delicate features carved across it’s surface as a sharp yet gentle breeze cut past him and _something_ caught his eye.  It danced in the wind’s frigid embrace and took refuge from its force on the locket in his hand.  It sat squarely on the center of the small sculpture, covering one of the profiles underneath entirely.  The wind ceased.

His mouth fell agape as he stared at the winged insect, wondering how it had managed to stay alive in this dropping termperature.  It had not been as large as the other, so many years ago and its wings were a dark brown in color, just as his wife’s eyes had been.  There was a moment of complete silence before the wind picked up viciously as the onset of the pending storm started to begin its onslaught.

And as quickly as it had come, the _dragonfly_ was gone.  Quinlan didn’t understand many things with the world anymore, but he understood _this_.  At that moment, he felt, just as he did at the pond, he was **_not_** alone.  Something was watching him and smiling yet again.  He nodded in acceptance as he knew he had been given back what was taken from him and at _this_ moment, everything had come full circle.

Clutching the locket tightly one final time, he opened and tilted his hand, watching as it fell into the torrential water of the creek and the current whisked it away from him … _forever_.  He followed it floating along for a moment before he turned to head back to the cabin.  To return to her, _unencumbered and **free**_.

No, no more excuses.  No more memories.  Nothing would deter him … until he heard that barely audible rumble from the north.  It was low and he recognized it at once now that he was now at full strength.  He could feel the _marid_ coming from miles away.  

He could also feel that Barqan was not alone.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry.”  Dawn said as she backed away from the redheaded Doctor who was washing her own clothes in the back sink.  She turned to retreat immediately but the woman called back to her.

“It’s no problem.  If you leave it here, I’ll wash it for you.  I’m already washing Gus’”  Dawn stared down at her flannel and considered just fleeing again without a word but she shrugged to herself.   _Fuck it._  If she is _offering, right?_

She handed the woman the item and turned to leave, but the Doctor tried to strike up a conversation next, “Hey, I just wanted to say … I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

_Fuck_.  She should have just said no if she realized there would have be to a payment of niceness.

“That’s ok.  I usually get off on the wrong foot with people like you.”  Whoa, where the hell did that come from?  Dawn had been conditioned from birth to _be nice_ to people and that harshness was not something that normally escaped her mind.  Plus, if she was mean enough, maybe she would be alright with just letting her go back inside.

Rebecca laughed and nodded, “I deserve that. I’ve been an ass.”

Damn.  At once, Dawn wondered what exactly Quinlan had said to her.  The only thing he’d been clear on was that he definitely threatened to kill her.

“That’s ok.  I think it’s just your nature.”   _Hehehehe_.

 

* * *

 

  


 

> _Become sword unsheathed, cut raw_
> 
> _Become myth turned life, real lore_
> 
> _Meet the rage on the field of war_
> 
> _But never drink of the blood that pours_

Quinlan only saw Barqan, but he felt the others in the snow covered wilderness around them.

“لقد جلبت الأصدقاء؟”

(You have brought friends?)

“I said the others would come, did I not?”  Barqan answered his question in English and Quinlan raised a brow.

“You speak this language now?”

Barqan laughed loudly, “My brothers have helped me see wisdom.”

“So quickly though?”  Quinlan found the man more and more intriguing.

“You are shocked?  I am quite old … _powerful_.  They have helped me through _our Connection_.”

_In Nexu._  Quinlan nodded.  He much preferred English to Arabic.  His Arabic was rusty at best.  He turned to the right suddenly as he felt like he might have caught a whiff of a scent of angelica, but he was much too far from the cabin for it to be _her_ … As it faded, he dismissed it.

“The others you bring, will they fight?”

“If needs be.”  Barqan pursed his lips, “But I am hoping it should not result with that.”

“You think my _Father_ will just roll over?  The _humans_ have already lost this war.”

“The _humans_ … yes.  But _you are not human, Prince_.  Well … Not _entirely_.”

Quinlan looked at him carefully, “You wish me to try to _imprison_ him again?”

Barqan brushed a log free of the white delicate snow and sat down, looking up to the dhampir with almost sad eyes.  “ _Capture_?  We wish you to _disperse_ him.  To … kill him.”

Quinlan blinked.  Did Barqan know the implications of this?  He hadn’t really considered slaying his father since … _the factory_.

“I am not sure he can be killed.”  Quinlan offered.

“The other six have been … _dispersed_.  Have they not?”

Quinlan nodded, “Yes, but that was–”

_“The Face of God?”_

“The [Countenance Divine](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FDivine_countenance&t=NzBjZjA1OTU1M2FlZTkxMjdjYWNiNGVlMDg0NTMxNDJiNDAzY2I1YSxvSDRLaWZQQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157040508408%2Fchapter-16&m=1)?”  Quinlan asked as he remembered Abraham suddenly and a frown spread across his face.

Barqan waved up towards the eastern horizon, though it was covered by thick, grey clouds, “The LORD make his face shine upon thee.”

“The Sun?”   _Huh_.  Quinlan hadn’t really thought of it that way.  Was the _Sun_ the divine countenance?  If this was true, then yes, it was just a massive nuclear fusion in the sky and a smaller nuclear weapon _could_ be considered the same.

“It was a weapon made of pure _sun light,_ was it not?”

“You could say that.   _Yes_.”

“And you have one of these _weapons_?”

Quinlan squinted as he rotated his head slowly to the _Djinn_ , “ _How could you know that?_ ”

“ _I know many things, Prince._  We can use this against him.  We can _disperse_ him.”  Barqan offered.

“Yes … but–”

“There is a prophecy in _Heaven_.  A prophecy of one who is _Born_ … of a _Demiarc_ , who would bear the mark of their maker, and that this creation would lead to their **_Fall_**.”

“I already know of _this_ prophecy.  And I also know that _you are attempting to **manipulate** me_.”  Quinlan could read the situation as it was playing out.  Ancharia and the other Ancients had all used this _prophecy_ to sway Quinlan to their wishes.

“ _No_.  No manipulation is intended.  I am simply presenting you with _the options_.”

“Options for what?

“ _Vengeance_.  Is that not why you fight?  Is it not what you have wanted for nearly two thousand years, _Pale One_?”

Quinlan stood and paced back and forth in front of the Djinn, “My resolve for _that_ task has _waned_ … as of late.”  He admitted.

“You have found _other things_ to drive your existence.”  Barqan smiled and stated plainly.

“It is said that if my _Father_ dies, then I _die_.  Do you know if this is true?”

Barqan looked down and thought for a moment before shrugging, “Nephilim cannot continue existence without their parent’s divinity.”  Quinlan wasn’t sure about the _Djinn_ ’s words.  There was a slight air of treachery that surrounded them.

“And if I do not do this?”  He asked.

“Then we will fight with you.  But know that we will not fight alone.”

Quinlan waved to the trees, “The others.”

“No.  In one day’s time, the gate will be re-opened and the Armies of Heaven will march onto the Earth for the first time in nearly ten thousand years.”  Barqan seemed displeased by this statement and Quinlan’s mouth became agape.

“They will join this fight?   _Finally_?  Then there is no need for us to fight any longer.”

Barqan shook his head, “They will come to cleanse this world.  The last cleansing was … “  He looked down to the ground as he choked out the next words, “… _absolute_.”

“The world needs cleansing now.   _Strigoi_ and _Human_ alike.”  Quinlan sneered but Barqan shook his head again.

“All who are of _sin_ will be _cleansed_ , _Pale One_.”  Quinlan suddenly understood his veiled implication, but he finished the thought to be perfectly clear, “The _strigoi_ will be cleansed.  The _Seventh_ will be cleansed.  And the _Nephilim_ will be cleansed.    _You … and **her**._ ”

“I will not allow _that_ to happen.”  Quinlan stated succinctly with complete confidence in his voice.

“You may be able to stand against one seventh of a single Archangel, _Prince of Snakes_.  But how do you think you will fare against seven intact ones.”

“Then we will run.  I have lived it the shadows my entire life.”  Quinlan said.

“You cannot run from this.   _The Traveler_ will find you no matter where you flee.”  Barqan shook his head.  “But it matters not, if your life is indeed tied to his, then you will already be gone and she will be left here to face _punishment_ … alone.”

Quinlan spoke again, “Then I will capture him.  They will–”

“Heaven will march if he remains intact.  And if Heaven marches on Earth, you both will be torn from existence.  I am not speaking of _first death_ , Prince.  It is the _second death_ that awaits you both.”

Quinlan furrowed his brow, _“[Second death](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FSecond_death&t=ZTUwOGY5ZmVmMWI4OGQ1MzhjNGJiZDUzNzUxMDJkNjNiYzVjZTJkMSxvSDRLaWZQQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157040508408%2Fchapter-16&m=1)?”_

“They will take her from you and they will burn the divinity that you _unlocked_ within her completely away.  Her body will be cast into the _Lake of Fire_ , and her soul will be snuffed from _existence_.  There will be no afterlife for either of you.  If … _when_ you are discovered, there will only be **_oblivion_**.”

The dhampir shook his head at the _marid_ ’s words, “We are not a threat to them.  She is not–”

“It matters not.  It is _forbidden_.  It is the _greatest sin._  The _Lord_ is quite unforgiving.”

There was no feeling that Quinlan detested more than _being completely without control._  He wanted to scoff at the _Djinn_ ’s words.  He wanted to deny their viability, but as he looked into his black eyes, he saw sadness … and _truth_.

“And if I _kill_ my _father_?”

“The march will halt and her existence will remain hidden. _I promise it._ ”

“How can _you_ make such a promise?”  Quinlan questioned.  “You are afraid to even look upon her.”

“There are _others_ who would see her safe.  Others _far more powerful_ than I.”

“And my _existence_?  My … _soul_?”  Quinlan pondered.  For the first time in over a millennium, he did _not_ wish to die.  For the first time in over a thousand years, Quinlan wanted desperately to live for he had found something which made him eager to open his eyes every morning again.  

At this moment, he hated his father more _than he ever had before._

“I do not know, _Prince_.  I only offer you _this choice_.  I saw your eyes when I _touched_ her.”

Quinlan stared down as he sighed heavily and a cloud of steam rose up out of his mouth and wafted up over his head as he lifted his gaze to the _Black King_ , “Where is my _Father_ now?”

  



	117. 16.5.5 - Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a few _critiques_ about the last chapter and the kiss scene being ‘too one-sided’. People were interested in hearing Dawn’s take on the whole thing and once I switched from Dawn’s perspective back to Q’s, I didn’t switch back. This was because most of the part was going to focus on him and his changing and evolving emotional state. Let’s face it, the last part was an emotional roller coaster for our pale and tortured hero.
> 
> But, I have decided to cave and I wrote up a very brief intermission that gives part of Dawn’s take on the whole experience (not the entire thing though). I am still trying to get better at _these_ types of scenes, so I hope you can bare with me.
> 
> This is the only post today. Enjoy!

## Intermission

Her attempted excuse had zero effect in deterring the dhampir from his desired action and when he stole the first tiny and gently kiss from her.  She felt herself blush terribly right at the moment he exhaled suddenly and his body relaxed completely.  He pulled back, watching her wide eyed as he quickly tasted his lower lip but she had _no idea_ what to say.

> “This is a bad idea.”
> 
> “You think?”

She told herself and she was about to finally _verbalize_ that fact to _him_ when he came forward again, pressing the softness of his lips against hers.  She remembered their texture from when she had stolen her own kiss from him in the sewer that _first time_.  They weren’t exactly human lips, they were softer and _warmer_!  And damn were they warm.  She couldn’t help but return the gesture briefly before pushing back against him to allow a reprieve.  She slapped herself within.

> “He’s only doing this because _you told him he had to_.”
> 
> “ _Oh my god_.  That’s an _embarrassing_ thought.”
> 
> “If you keep kissing him back, he’ll _expect_ what you had originally offered him.”

“You don’t _have_ to kiss me.”  She pulled away as guilt swamped her.  Every fiber of her being wished she could just melt into the cushions of the couch now, just slide into solitude and hide from her suffocating shame.

“ _I wish it._ ”  He whispered as a half grin crept upon the corner of his mouth and he kissed her yet again, opening his mouth as he pressed.  She felt the inside part of his lips leave a thick moisture on hers.  Dawn closed her eyes tightly as her wish to disappear escalated.

 _He wishes it_?  What _exactly_ did he wish?  That he woke up next to her and found himself … _frisky_?   That he hoped by giving in to her earlier demand and kissing her that he would get _pleasure_ from her?  Dawn’s mind flooded with every explanation possible, but everything always came back to that single point where her mind would get stuck.  He already confessed it to her and she was imprisoned by it.   ** _He could never love another_** and when he died, he would spend ‘eternity’ with _her_ … his **_beautiful_** and _simple_ wife.

Personally, she didn’t even believe in an afterlife.  She was an atheist and she thought when you died, you were just one dead son of a _bitch_.  But his desire for her felt good.  She didn’t think she had ever actually felt that level of want from _anyone_ and she returned the hunger.   _So what is the big deal then?   Why couldn’t they just use each other as he suggested?_

She couldn’t and the terribleness of it was the simple fact that she had already _fallen in love_ with him.  She didn’t know if it had happened all at once or slowly over time, but she knew _without a doubt_ that she was already _in love_ with him the instant that she watched across that grassy field, while they soldiers shot him from above.  When she thought he was gone.  When her rage burned with more fire than she thought possible and she had **_screamed_**.

If she continued down _this path_ with him, she knew she would be the one who would suffer from it.  She couldn’t give him what he desired, no matter how much she wanted to because she wouldn’t be able to stop at giving him _just_ her body, her heart would have to follow.

“You don’t want _that_ from me.  I’m not h–” (er.  I’m not her.  I’ll never be her.)

“But, you _offered_ me _this_.”  Another kiss. “And I _accepted_.  Or do you _not_ recall?” Sometimes she hated how confident he was.

She felt she had been pretty damn clear that she did not want this and his words distracted her from his next brief peck across her lips and she stared back at him with wide eyes full of confusion while he watched her intently, “I _offered_ you _this_?”  

He closed the distance between them as he whispered in hot breath across her lips, “ ** _Intimacy_**.”  And he kissed her fully again, powering through her objectioning hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.

_Wait. **Intimacy**?!  When had he …  
_

> “You fool!   _The dream_!”

She might have said something further but he kissed her again and she could feel the greed mounting in him.  She might have tried to explain that … _yeah_ … but that was just a _dream_.  They’d had many dreams, right?  There was barely a pause as he turned his face to kiss her from the other side of her nose.

“If you don’t stop this now.  You won’t be able to–”

 _Oh shit_ …  She opened her mouth to his and he groaned softly into her surrender.

> _“He’s going to hurt us.”_
> 
> “Everyone _always_ does.”


	118. Fan Art - 10

[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/157090579593)

[quinlantheinvictus](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/157090410155/michael-and-dawn-the-strain-fx-fanfic-a-savage):

> **_Michael and Dawn // The Strain FX Fanfic[“A Savage Inconvenience”](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com)_ **
>
>> **HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE AMAZING[@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA) !!!** (Or almost birthday, hehehehe), you have no idea how much my pencil sharpener suffered with this drawing… But I’m not ashamed to say that I kept torturing it until I was able to complete this, because you deserve it for all the work you’ve done with “A Savage Inconvenience”
>> 
>> Do you see the Native feather!!? DO YOU SEE IT?
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> 
>
>> (yeah, those are your gif [@5thinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mlUcxwML5JF2RxiwQ7b6qqA) )
>> 
>> It was a last minute idea, but of course I had to show Hathu’s presence in this work, Is about her two most important persons on Heaven and Earth. For all those who have read the fic, you know what I am talking about ;)
>> 
>> And the freckles and eyes are almost the same in both of them!
>> 
>> And hey! **the Sun Stick!!** :D

##  **THE JOY, THE JOY!!!**

[Originally posted by yourreactiongifs](https://tmblr.co/ZMseho29f4e-j)

##  **AND ALSO, THE FEELS!  THE FEELS!!!**

[Originally posted by i-am-my-own-drugs](https://tmblr.co/ZgTtgn2FoNIPc)

##  **Thank you,[@quinlantheinvictus](https://tmblr.co/mIgdTY5_MuX8F9pHO8C3SeQ)!**

[Originally posted by jared-jensen-misha-mark67](https://tmblr.co/ZPqTkj1rxCYRb)


	119. Commissioned Art

[ ](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/image/157103807733)

_Commission by[@neveromininart](https://tmblr.co/mVxdYsORjvF9TFLEbiuK2XA)_

##  **Early birthday present for myself!**

##  **＼（＾○＾）人（＾○＾）／**


	120. 16.6 - Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was easily one of the emotional parts that I’ve written. It will be a few days until the next part comes out. I’m sure you’ll understand why.

Once Quinlan was out of audible range, Barqan turned to the trees and spoke candidly, “Can you not simply just take care of your brother _yourself_?”   It seemed as if he was just querying the cold, thin air until the Archangel became a part of the visible reality, stepping out suddenly to respond to him.

“He can’t know any of this was orchestrated by _me_.”  Michael answered.

“What does it matter now?” Barqan asked while he shook off the falling snow that had built up on his shoulders.

“ _Hayyoth_ can’t be extinguished.  He’ll be _dispersed_ back to Heaven.”  Michael shrugged, but his uncertainty of that fact was clear.

“And … what?  You think he might disclose your secret once returned?”  Barqan was suddenly realizing the impending threat Michael wished to avoid.

“If he thinks me his enemy, I have _no doubt_.  But if he thinks me an _ally_ … ”

“This is a dangerous game you play, _my friend_.  What if the _boy_ fails?”

“If he fails, then we _all_ fail.  I can’t protect anyone if I’ve fallen.   You, him, _them … her._ ”

“Some more than _others_.  As you have been so kind to point out, _Hayyoth_ cannot be extinguished.  A fact that I kept from him.”  Barqan stated matter of factly, displeased with the deceitful act which the Archangel had convinced him to commit.

Michael shrugged, “ ** _I know him._**  If he thought another path existed, he’d pursue it … _relentlessly_.”

“And what of _his_ fate?  To what end have we damned _him_?”  Barqan looked down as he spoke, ashamed of his participation in the plot.  He had grown fond of the _boy_ , however short their time spent together had been.  Quinlan was an individual and unique, both in intellect as well as character, something that most of _his_ kind lacked.

“It’s only the _first death_.  I’ll provide him whatever refuge I can.”  Michael attempted to reassure his disappointed friend.

“What kind of refuge can you provide?  He is _nephilim_.  The _others_ will not allow him to continue.”

“It’s not up to _them_.  And what he is … _that’s still_ up for debate.  You worry too much.  You’ve _always_ worried too much.  I have my ways, Barqan.”  Michael rested a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, “I give **_my word_** , for the sake of your _conscience_ and for the _heart_ of my brother, I will spare him if it’s in my power.”

The Archangel turned to take his leave before his words sparked another question from the Black King.  “The _Heart_ of your _brother_?”

“You don’t think _Ozryel_ cares for him?  That’s the **_only_** reason that little bastard still breaths.  It’s the _only reason_ I spared him over the other **_four_**.”  The wings were spread as Michael prepared himself for light.

“And you, _Governor_?”

Michael turned, halting his exit very briefly, “And me what?”

“Do you care for your _nephew_?”

“He’s _not_ my kin.  Why should I care for that impudent abomination?”  Michael scoffed at the accusing question.

Barqan smiled, “Because _your child_ does.”

“I know how to tell the difference between _my emotions_ and _hers_.”  The Archangel scoffed.

“And the _prophecy_?  You realize that it is –”  He only received a glare in response as Michael took to the air mid sentence and was gone.

 

* * *

 

“And that’s how I wound up in the military _anyways_.”  Rubinstein finished her long winded story and stared back at the young woman who had been keeping her company for quite some time.  All things considered, Dawn seemed to be a great listener.

“Huh.  I wouldn’t have expected that.”  Dawn shrugged and handed the doctor the next piece of clothing to wash from the basket between them.

“You wouldn’t have expected what exactly?”  She prodded.

Dawn said nonchalantly, “I don’t know.  That someone … _like you_ … would …”

Rubinstein found herself smiling at the statement, “Join the Army, run off to war … all for a _boy_?  Yeah, I didn’t think I would do that either.”

“Must have been some boy.”  Dawn mused and Rebecca shook her head feverently

“Not really actually.  Turned out … _not so much at all_.  I learned a lot from it … a lot about people.  And I wound up hurting someone important to me in the process … ”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.  I was dating another resident at the time.  I didn’t realize until it was too late that I actually loved the son of a bitch.”  She wrung the shirt free of as much liquid as possible and handed it to Dawn, who stuffed it into another basket.  They’d hang them in front of the hearth when they went back inside and hope the heat would dry them enough.

“What happened to him?”  Dawn asked.

“When I came back … all bright eyed and high on the realization that I actually loved him, he’d already moved on.  He was dating this _mousy woman_.”  Rubinstein looked at Dawn, who had thrown a raised eyebrow her way, obviously taking offense to the statement.  Rebecca cleared her throat and carried on, “ _Sorry_.  He was dating this … **_very quiet_** woman.”

“And that was that?”  The short woman asked, “I don’t think something like _that_ would deter _you_.”

“You’d be surprised.  Back then, I wasn’t the same … _woman_.  He wound up marrying her and _that was that_.”  Rebecca shrugged.

“Ever look him up?”  Dawn questioned as the doctor handed her the next piece of wet clothing.

“I used to.  Constantly … like a stalker.”  She shared a snicker with her companion and then she breathed with another indifferent shrug, “But, _fate_ is a funny thing right?  He shows up on my doorstep years later with a peculiar little coma patient in tow.”

Dawn was suddenly taken back, as she stuttered the revelation, “Wait … You don’t mean …”

“‘Fraid so … our good Dr. Goodweather.”  Rebecca laughed and Dawn pursed her lips at the thought.

“ _Wait_ … “  Dawn furrowed her nose at the disclosure, “ _Ephraim_?  Him?”

“Hey!  Don’t judge.  You should count yourself lucky.”  Rebecca said.

“Why’s that?”

“He’s the only person on Earth that I would have helped you guys for.”

Dawn paused for a moment to accept it fully, “To each their own, I guess.  Huh. But … _Ephraim_?”  She asked again and the doctor laughed at her disbelief.

“He’s changed a lot.  He was a different man back then … more hair.”  The thought of that made the Doctor herself giggle slightly, “I think miss his hair … but not many men _can_ pull the bald look off, **_right_**?”  She winked at Dawn who sheepishly looked back into the basket without responding.  “And what about you _two_?”  She pushed now.

“What about _me?_ ”  Dawn seemed perplexed.

“You and the … _um_ …”  Rubinstein paused as she cleared her throat, “ _Mr. Quinlan_.”

“He’s … “  Dawn paused as she furrowed her nose, thinking of what to say next, “What do you mean _you two?_ ”  She finally asked.

“Oh come on.   _Everyone_ saw you two this morning.”

Dawn looked momentarily shocked as she shook her head, “Oh no, that was not what it looked like … there wasn’t any place else for him to … sleep.“  She looked up mid sentence and saw the raise eyebrow that Rebecca was now throwing _her_ way.  “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know _what_ we are.  But it isn’t like _that_.”  She finally said as she fumbled with the wet clothes in her own basket, trying to distract herself from the uncomfortable conversation.

Rubinstein turned her attention from the laundry fully and faced Dawn head on now, “I mean, it _seems_ like he’s into you.”

“No.  It’s not like that.  He just … _needs_ me.”

“Exactly.”

Dawn shook her head, “ _No_.  He _needs_ me … I’m … “  She hesitated at the thought and Rubinstein helped her out by the sentence for her.

“ ** _Bait_**?”  Dawn seemed perplexed that she _knew_ and Rebecca shrugged, “I’m pretty sure Ephraim’s told me _everything_.”  She could see the distress on the short woman’s face and she offered a helpful observation, “I don’t think you are just _bait_ for him, sweetie.”

“No?”  She asked, nervously biting her lower lip.

“ _Nu uh_.”  Rubinstein shook her head, “You don’t look at bait **_that way_**.”

Dawn furrowed her brows, “What way?”

“Like you want to _fuck_ it into _oblivion_.”

Blushing furiously as the conversation hit an unexpected turn, Dawn attempted some kind of retort, “Oh no, I don’t think–”

“ _Oh please._  Who are you lying to?  Me?  Or _yourself_?”

“I should probably get ba–”  Rebecca could see the woman’s flight instinct suddenly kick in and she prodded her again before she could flee.

“From your reaction, I take it nothing’s happened yet then?”  She knew how to read other women, it was how she liked to maintain control over them, though she had no desire to _control_ the short woman any longer.

“I … I’d _really_ rather not talk about this with _you_.”  Dawn pouted suddenly, furrowing her brows madly at the insistent Doctor.

Rebecca paused, “Sorry.  Just seems like it bothers you.  I know when I talk about things out loud, it helps me work through them better.  Listen, I know we got off to a rocky start, but I’d _actually_ like us to be friends.”

Dawn stared at the ground in silence and the Doctor returned to the washing.  There was a brief moment of silence, before Dawn actually spoke, “Nothing’s happened yet.  I mean, I think … I _know_ he wants _something_ to …”

“But you don’t?”  Rebecca asked.

“No, no, no.  It’s not that.  I mean … ”  Dawn stuttered.  The frustration of not being able to verbalize her thoughts clearly was obviously frustrating her.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Dawn shrugged silently as she bit her lip again.

“Cause, it seems like there’s a problem.  Is it because of what he is?”  Rebecca pointed out.

“No, no, no … that’s not it … it’s just …. _He’s got a wife._ ”  

“ _Oh_.”  Rebecca was moderately shocked at the revelation, “Huh.  Well … in all honesty.  That’s never stopped me before.”  Dawn stared at the women as she shook her head with pure disgust and disappointment as Rebecca shrugged, “What?  I’m just being honest.  When I want something, I generally don’t let _moral_ issues get in the way.  Besides, I doubt she’d find out.  If he’s into it–”

“ _She’s dead._ ”  Dawn fidgeted with her hands after the disclosure.

“Wait … you don’t wanna sleep with him because he’s a … _widower_?”  Rebecca perked up within her stance as she cocked her head at Dawn inquisitively.

“No, no, no.”  Dawn struggled to find the right words, “I don’t think he’s over her … well … I _know_ he’s not over her.  He kinda _said_ he wasn’t.  He said he **_never_** would be.”

“Oh.  Meh.  He’s still into it, so who cares?  It’s _just sex_.”  Rebecca said merrily, smiling as the thought crossed her mind.  She decided she should find Ephraim after this little conversation.

“It’s … no.  It’s not.  It’s not _just sex_.”  Dawn sighed heavily as her eyes darted down to the snow covered ground.

“Oh.  Wait … do you … do you _love_ _him_?”  The Doctor asked.

“I … no.“ Dawn started to say _something_ , but she quickly decided against it, playing with her fingers in a nervous way as more thoughts danced silently across her saddened mind.

“Listen kid.”  Rebecca started as she mused to herself that she was not that much older than the short woman, but the conversation gave her a certain sense of needing to impart some wisdom, “I don’t care how old he is … how many men he’s commanded … how many great things he’s witnessed, guy’s say _dumb shit.  Constantly.  All the time._ They say shit they don’t mean because their brains get all out of whack when they try to deal with _real emotions_.”

Dawn looked up at her, “Yeah, I don’t think Quinlan is like–”

“Trust me, _Ms. Maxwell._   _ALL_ men are like that.  Hands down … even **_Generals_** … trust me.  I’ve had my share.”

“ _Generals_?”  Dawn curled her lip at that statement as a wave of disgust rushed her, “ _Generals_?  Like … “  She gulped briefly, “… _General Shaw_?”

“Hey!   _Don’t judge._  Older guys are pretty phenomenal.  He was pretty damn _experienced_.  Don’t knock an _old guy_ until you try one.”  Rebecca waved an index finger at Dawn in a chastising way and the short woman made a fake retching noise as she showed her disgust openly to the Doctor.

“The point is.  Everyone puts their foot in their mouths, they make mistakes they regret and they lose people they love.   _Trust me_ … I’ve been one of those people.  He obviously _cares_ quite a bit, champ.”

“I … I don’t want to make a _fool of myself._ ”  Dawn whispered as she spoke so quietly, Rebecca almost had trouble making out her words.  “ _Not again._ ”

“Somethings can be worth the risk.  There is just one question … Do you think he could he make you happy?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that easy.  He said–”

The Doctor shook her head, interrupting quickly, “Yes it is.  It’s always that simple.  [The secret to happiness is letting every situation be what it is instead of what you _want_ it to be, and then … making the best of it.](http://poemsquoteswords.tumblr.com/post/157081256165)”

Dawn seemed to internalize her words for a moment before asking, “Why do you care?  Why are you even talking to me?”

Rebecca smiled to her before she turned around back to the laundry sink and the snow began to come down again, all around them as the wind briskly picked up and shook them to their core with cold, “Because I was an ass and … we will all face _judgement_ in the end.”

Both women jumped suddenly as Quinlan seemed to appear before him, breaking his sprint as a plume of snow flew up around them.  The wind kicked up yet again and the density of the snow increased even more, sharply declining the outside temperature.

“ _A storm approaches._ ”  His demeanor was markedly cold as he refused to lock eyes with either of the women.  “There is also something that needs discussion.  We should get inside.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone stood in complete silence, gawking at Quinlan as he disclosed his plan, after retrieving the silver case from the cabinet and setting it on the counter.

“You wanna blow him up, _ese_?  Will that even work?”  Gus finally asked and Quinlan nodded with utter confidence.

“This worked on the other ancients.  It will work on him.  It is … _The Face of God._ ”

Fet choked up a response now, “But if we know where he is … can’t we just try and … I dunno … can’t we just catch him again?  I like bombs, but usin’ a nuke.  I dunno man, makes me nervous.”

“I know of his general vicinity, yes.  But imprisonment is no longer a … _viable_ option.”

“Why not?”  Ephraim was suddenly a part of the conversation and quite furious, “Why isn’t it a _viable_ option?  I’m sorry if I’m not ok with us just NUKING him.”

Quinlan looked up to the Doctor and for the first time since he’d met Ephraim, he felt sorry for the man.  He knew the pain in his eyes and he _understood_ the desperation for his child.  “We will go together, Doctor.  I will require a distraction and I will provide you with an opportunity to find your son.”

Dutch stuttered now, “ _Alright then_.  But the timer is stuck at 2 seconds, love.  That’s not enough time for anyone to get away once it’s triggered.”

Dawn spoke up, “Yeah, we’d have to make it a remote trigger somehow.”

     “ _No_.”  Quinlan’s voice was unsure and immediately drowned out by the women’s conversation as they started to bounce off each other with electricity as they had at the previous house.

Dutch nodded and smiled to Dawn, “I mean, I don’t even know where we’d even start on doing that, and _that thing_ terrifies the _SHIT_ out of me.”  She pointed to the case, “But I’m game on poking at it if you are.”

    “ _Stop_.”  Quinlan tried again.

Dawn nodded before she offered, “There was an electronics store we passed on the way.”

    “ _Please stop_.”  Quinlan tried yet again.

“Righto.  Radio signals might work.  But I’d be worried about distance and possible interference.  How far do you think it would need to work?”

“We might be able to find a satellite band that’s still working.”  Dawn posed and Dutch smiled merrily.

“That’ll take some time–”  Dutch had started to say.

“ ** _ENOUGH_**.”  Quinlan spoke loudly, growling with a strong strigoi rattle as he slammed his fist down on the counter and everyone turned back to him abruptly.  “It does _NOT_ matter.  I will take it _as is_.”

“But.”  Dutch smirked slightly as she reiterated the _painful_ fact to him, “The timer is stuck at 2 seconds, love.  That’s not enough time for _anyone_ to get away, even you.”

Quinlan swiftly responded to her, keeping his focus on the case as not to look _anyone_ in the eyes.  “ _Indeed_.  It does not matter.  It is best if the timer remains short.  There will be less chance of him escaping again.  I do not … intend on _getting away_.”

“Wait … what?”  Dawn finally spoke as her jaw was slightly agape.  Her voice was quiet yet sharp and there was something laced underneath its melody, something timid and almost broken.  He refused to shift his gaze from the case as he could hear the fury brewing within her.  “You … want to … _blow yourself_ up with him?”  The question was riddled with confusion.

“I do not think anyone else would be able to hold him at bay.”  He offered as he commanded himself to remain focused on the the case.  Entirely blank look swept across his face as he shook his head.  “Besides, it does not matter.”

“ _What do you mean it doesn’t matter?_ ”   _Oh gods._  Her voice, he could hear the panic that was percolating within it and he felt his own emotion starting to bubble up with it.  He did what he normally had done with his emotions … he masked them in **_anger_**.  “Of course it matters.  We can come up with a better plan than _this_.”

    “ _No_.”  He said, trying to entice his anger out further.

She continued over him, “Now that we know where he is, we can find another box.”

    “ _Stop_.”  He sneered with a growl.

“We can do better than … **GEE GUYS … _let’s just blow him up TODAY._** ”

“ ** _ENOUGH_**.” He screamed.  Though he knew it was a bad idea, he turned around, finally looking into her face as he commanded himself to _scream more_ , but the look on her face abated his attack all at once.  That anger which he was desperately trying to use as a shield, blocking himself from everything that he was feeling, crumbled away inside of her gaze.  He could see the tears as they were starting to form in her dragonfly eyes.  He could even smell them.  “It … would … not … matter.”  He said so slowly, unable to hide the pain.

“ _Why_?”  She plead and everyone watched silently, not wishing to interrupt the pending question.  He had told none but Ephraim and Abraham his next secret.  It was likely Fet and Rubinstein might know through shared _confidence_ , but he _knew_ the _Poet_ did not.  Her little fascinated, curious, scientific mind would have questioned him on its validity endlessly.

“Because … _when **he** dies … **I die**._ ”

“What?”  Dutch said flatly and _immediately_.  “What the fuck does that mean?”

Quinlan did not grace her with an answer; he couldn’t.  He could only stare back into Dawn’s eyes as she vigorously shook her head at him with visceral denial, “ ** _That’s ridiculous_**.”

“Regardless.  It is _the truth_.”

“Bullocks.”  Dutch mumbled as she took a seat on the couch, slinking down and grabbing a pillow to hug tightly.  The men offered no responses and Quinlan waited for her to continue her rejection of his statement.

“Dis whole time … “  Fet stuttered sadly.  “If we had killed him …”

“No, that’s **_just dumb_**.  You don’t **_know_** that.   You can’t _know_ _that_.  Who told you that?”  Her voice had begun to raise and Ephraim interjected.

“That’s what I’ve been telling him, I said–”

“It has always been an assumption.  Now, it has been made fact.”  Quinlan snapped at the Doctor’s impending thoughts on the subject as Dawn cocked her head to the right.

“ _By who?_ ”  She asked, but he knew from the tone of her voice that she already had an idea who.

“ _The Fire._ ”

“I don’t see why we can’t just catch him again then.” Fet finally spoke up, waving his hand towards the nuclear device, “We don’t need to nuke him, right?  We did it once before and da Lumen says–”

“There is no longer time for that, Mr. Fet.  We have less than a day to act.”  Quinlan snapped, never taking his eyes from hers.   He could tell that she was fighting the urge to express herself further, and she had kept every tear at bay thus far, but her chin trembled dearly and he hated himself _so very_ much at this moment.  He knew better.

“Why is that?  We’ve had months … we’ve been at this for months and now we have a day?”  Dutch pondered, seeming to disbelieve Quinlan’s statement entirely.

“Is that what he told you?”  The short woman asked, “Is that what _The Great Fire_ said to get you to do this?”

Quinlan finally broke his gaze with her and his eyes floated down to the ground, “I do not think he lies.  Not about this.  In a day’s time, more like my _Father_ will come, and the _Earth_ will bear the savage consequences of his _reign_.”

“More like the _Master_?”  Gus questioned, “More strigoi?  Or other _Ancients_?”

Quinlan nodded once at the latter, finally turning from her to look at the Boxer, “Of sorts.  However, far more powerful and far more ruthless.”

“More ruthless than the _Master_?”  Ephraim questioned as he clearly did not consider that even possible.

There was silence as his words sunk into the entire room and tension rose sharply as Fet sat next to Dutch in defeat, “ _Fuck man_.  Why do this?”

“Because I die either way, Mr. Fet.  At least … with this …”  He forced himself to look back to her, locking eyes as she continued to stare through him in quiet and sad disbelief, “ ** _You_** will live.”

“No. _This is **bullshit**.”_  She sneered as her face flushed with angry redness, “You aren’t gonna just _give up_ and then blame **_us_** for it.”  Her tone deepened as the fury unleashed through her words, “ _If you want to die, you don’t get to use_ us _as an excuse!_ ”

“There is no _blame_.  I do not wish to die–”

“ _You’ve wanted to die this whole time, haven’t you? **Eternity, right?**_ ”  She spat towards him as she hastily made her way to the door, unlocking it and swinging it widely open as the evolving storm outside flooded the little cabin with wind and snow briefly before she slammed it shut behind her.  Quinlan moved to stop her, but his arm was caught by Gus who shook his head towards Quinlan.

“ _Augustine … I assume you like having **two** arms?_ ”  He sneered at the man and the _Boxer_ released him immediately, showing his palms of defeat to the dhampir.  Moving to follow her out the door he heard the _Boxer_ from behind.

“Giver her a few minutes, ese.  She just needs to _cool off._ ”

Quinlan turned back around and saw the genuine concern in the Boxer’s eyes.   _Perhaps_ he was right.  There was _nothing_ that Quinlan could say to her right now to ease her resentment towards him.  He turned to the door and fought every fiber in his being that begged him to follow her before retreating back to the counter to stare at his _destiny_.  He looked at the case top and flicked the little door open causing the LEDs to come alive and illuminated.  Sighing heavily, he stared at the numbers:  

##  **00:00:02**

 

* * *

She ran.  Oh god, she _ran._

She ran as fast as her short legs could carry her and when she thought she couldn’t run any _faster_ , she did.  She knew this was faster than she had ever moved and when the flurry of the snow storm around her began to slow she pushed herself _even_ harder as the flood of emotions broke through finally and she screamed into the wind while her tears flowed mercilessly out of her eyes and almost froze on her face before they could drip free of her spotted cheeks.

She had no idea _where_ she was going … not at first.  Not until she realized she should give that _son of a bitch_ a piece of her mind and she turned sharply to make her way North, ripping through the torrential wind as she ran.  She wished to have words with that Great Fire.   _Fuck that guy.  Fuck that guy. **Fuck that guy.**_

 _Piece of shit._  She reached around to verify that the baton was clipped onto her back pocket when a voice she hadn’t heard in days finally sounded.

> “Where do you think you are going?”

“Decide it was time to pester me again?   _It’s been days._ ”

> “You sent me away.  I am not _always_ here.   _You control that_.”  Her voice was frail and uncertain.

“You’ve always barged in before.”

> “Only when _you_ have needed me, child.  I can only come when _you_ allow it.  It’s _always_ been up to you.”

Dawn ground her teeth as she spoke, trying unsuccessfully to refuse her continued tears, “Did you see it?  Did you hear what he plans on doing?!”

> “I heard _enough_.”  Hathų whispered.

“Then how do we _fix this_?”  Dawn pleaded.

> “I do not know how to fix this.”  Hathų squeaked.

“I’m not going to let him do this.  It’s ridiculous.”  Dawn stopped running for a moment, wiping the moisture from her face before it could freeze, “I won’t.”

> “How can you stop this?  I do not even know–”  The voice started to make excuses.

“You don’t know _anything_ apparently.  Do you know what I am?”  She questioned suddenly and the voice remained silent.  “That’s what I thought.   _Coward_.  It doesn’t matter … I’m going to stop this on my own then.”

> “How will you stop _this_?”  Hathų asked, her voice full of concern, “There is little either one of us can do–”

“He can’t kill the _Master_ if _he can’t find him_.”  Dawn sneered as she began to run again, hitting a frozen creek that blocked her path North.  The surface was a thin piece of ice but she could see the water still flowing freely and mightily underneath.  She began to follow it East, hoping for a safe place to cross it.

> “What does that mean?!”  Hathų voice was suddenly full of minor panic.

“The _Djinn_ **_will_** tell me where the _Master_ is.”

> “And then what?!”  Hathų screamed now, “What are you planning on doing?”

“The _Master_ made me an offer once–”  Dawn wasn’t sure exactly how viable her plan was, but at the very least, she might be able to lure the _One_ away from its current location.  If Quinlan couldn’t _find_ it, then he couldn’t blow it up.

> “NO!  You don’t understand!  They are coming tomor–”  Hathų started to scream in response, but Dawn pushed her away again.  She was getting quite good at that it seemed, controlling the intrusion of the voice.

_God damn._  It was fucking cold.  She tucked her arms around her and verified the hood was still snugly over her head, protecting her from the onslaught of snow and sludge that fell from the skies above.  She knew it was more than three miles to the spot on the cliff where he’d saved _The Keepers_ and she knew it would be another three miles after that.  She regretting saving them now.  If she had just let them all die, then Quinlan would have never met that fucking _Djinn_.

With that much distance to cross, she thought she might just die out here in the snow, but she was faster now and she knew she was _stronger_.   _He’d made her so.  He’d done so many things for her …  
_

[Originally posted by mizar113](https://tmblr.co/ZcesJl2I5p6xn)

She continued to follow the creek for quite some time, but she hadn’t seen any place to cross safely.  Briefly considering turning around to try heading east, she spied something in the near distance, through the falling snow, that might be of use.  The creek widened considerably as it emptied into a deeper pool area, but at the front of the frozen pond, a fallen log laid haphazardly across its mouth and she stepped onto the end of it as she tested its weight.  It seemed sturdy enough.  Her boot provided adequate traction and just before she started the dangerous task, the wind completely died as the snow fall suddenly lightened.

_Excellent._

Taking it as a good sign to hurry across, she began to pass over the frozen yet running body of water, smiling to herself with pride at her excellent balance.  Everything seemed nearly perfect in that moment but as soon as the grin had graced her face, when she was but halfway across its length, the wind kicked up furiously, far more powerful than ever before and there was a moment where she thought she might lose her balance to it, but she recovered amazingly as she waved her arms to steady herself before she turned to finish navigating the final few steps.

_Sucker._

But the wind kicked up another notch again and the snow came down fiercely and Dawn heard the branch above giving way and though she attempted to jump the remaining distance, this branch was larger than the log underneath her.  As it hit directly in front of her, it tore her makeshift bridge in half, throwing her forcefully onto the frozen body of water.

The impact of her fall broke the ice immediately and she found herself gasping at the coldness as it surrounded her and soaked into her clothing, throwing her body into a cold fueled paralysis.  The sensation was so shocking and overwhelming she felt too numb to scream. he desperately clawed at the branched around her to prevent herself from being sucked under the ice along with the strong current.

As the cold set it and she was unable to gain enough strength to pull herself out, the only action her freezing body would afford her was to hold desperately onto an offshoot of the attacking branch with her right hand, keeping her head above at the very least and stopping the creek from pushing her under the frozen top.

 

* * *

 

He took Gus’ advice and attempted to be _patient_.  It was unlike him to be otherwise and so he sat and waited.  He managed to make it a little less than ten minutes before the storm picked up around the tiny cabin and the only thing that Quinlan could hear was its assault on the little building, deafening all of his other senses.  He raised his hood and left without uttering a word to anyone.

The flurry was easily a blizzard now and he damned himself for waiting as long as he had, because all he could hear now was the wind and all he could see, smell, and feel was the damned snow.  He looked around the building first then checked the dock before his worry finally began to mount.

 _Would she have run off in these conditions?_  No, she was so good at surviving and he doubted she would have done anything that foolhardy, however, he knew he’d never seen her in that state of mind before.

Quinlan stared at the tree line and then eyed the lake, unsure of which direction she might have gone, but he figured he would start at the road, which ran South.  She was likely on the road, he assured himself and when he took his first step in that direction, the wind kicked up ferociously and blew North suddenly.  Barqan’s voice pierced his memory:

> _(Perhaps the wind likes you, Forbidden Prince.)_

_Indeed_.  Quinlan headed North, around the lake as he moved quickly, attempting to cover as much ground as possible, but after the first mile he had started to doubt his decision.  There was simply no way she would have made it this far, not in these conditions at least.  Right?  He hesitated and considered returning to take the Southern route when he spied the outline of possible footprints in the snow.  It was difficult to make them out entirely and he stopped and bent to investigate them further as the snow enveloped them.

[Originally posted by daystilchristmas](https://tmblr.co/Zn5liu29YVMPS)

He was sure that is what they were and as he sprinted along, he found deeper tracks and followed them as they cut right at the frozen creek, the same one he’d visited early today and it was only half a mile from there that he had heard _that sound_.  He knew _that sound_ , he’d heard it many times over his long years.  The clattering of human teeth.

He saw her, clutching feebly to the branch on the other side of the frozen creek with all but her head and right arm underneath the water as she being tugged furiously by the river.  Her eyes closed, her skin white and her thin lips had turned a light blue.  He heard himself cry out.

 _“Oh!”_  It seemed as if she had tried to cross it, and she was _nearly there_ , only a mere several feet from the other side.  And at this point in the forest, the creek was wider than any other, and it seemed to be quite a bit deeper as well, but it mattered not as Quinlan jumped its twenty foot girth, landing at the other bank with ease before he rushedly reached over, grabbing her hand which barely clutched the branch.  Her eyes suddenly flashed open with his grip.   _Good_.  She was still conscious at least.

He pulled her up and out of the water, into his warm arms as he cradled her, damning himself for allowing Gus to talk him into letting her “ _cool off”_?

“How long have you been in the water?”  His question was rushed but he received no answer as she shuddered terribly in his grip.  Pulling her up closer to his body, he pushed her face into the warmth of his neck and swirls.   _Oh gods._  The temperature of her nose even caused him to shudder and he realized he needed to get her _warm_ immediately.  She had been in the water too long.

And just as the gravity of the situation hit Quinlan, the blizzard hit its next level of power.  The wind and snow kicked up all around them and he felt even more overwhelmed as his senses burned in the coldness.  He spun as he screamed maddeningly into the sky, “ ** _Are you fucking serious!?!?_** ”

[Originally posted by infiniteforests](https://tmblr.co/ZDPQTx1xtte4e)

It would take him a while to get back into the cabin in these conditions and he doubted that would fair well for her in her current condition, but he did _know_ this area.  He canvassed it when they arrived and there was shelter not far from them.  It hadn’t housed any food and it proved far too tiny as a viable option for the group, but it would do for now.  He just hoped that it was still standing and that the fireplace was in working order.

He was opening the door to the small hut of a cabin within a minute, kicking it shut behind him as he let her slip down from his arms.  Unsure if she could stand on her own, he was poised to catch her but it was unnecessary as her legs were still functional.   _Good_.  All good signs.  Now he just needed to warm her up … _quickly_.

He began to procedurally remove the layers of wet and nearly frozen clothing from her shivering body.


	121. 16.7 - Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing this part on and off for a couple of months now and I realize it turned out to be … well … a little long winded. It repeats some and I’ve read it a gazillion times and instead of just changing it over and over and over, I’m going to just lob it over the wall at you. This has been me for the last two days:
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> I spent a lot of time going back and forth about this post. How long vs. how short? How realistic vs. how idealized? How much fluff vs. how much vulgar? And I realized, I don’t really care. I’m going to write it exactly how I want to write it and how I would want to read it, and not care too much about what people might think of it.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> # Warning: This chapter is a bit more **Explicit** than Mature.

> _Broken bottles on the floor_
> 
> _Broken promises and more_
> 
> _People come and people go_
> 
> _Just sit back and enjoy the show_
> 
> _Through the darkest of days_
> 
> _Through the smoke and the haze_
> 
> _  
> _
> 
> _Come on light it up, light it up_
> 
> _Cause we gonna burn bright_
> 
> _My friends, when the darkest days ahead_

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

His first love had not been like _this_. Tasa had been absolutely _beautiful_ and he had learned to love her, slowly and steadily over time; it was welcomed, cultivated, nourished, and **_cherished_**. She took care of him, singing to him and she would make him see what he **_could_** be. She made him strive to be _different_ than what he was. He was a monster and she was very nearly the exact opposite. But he had been _young_ still, when he was open to _these feelings_. Before he was so old that nothing felt new any longer. Quintus thought there were no new feelings, new experiences, new places, new people. Everything was just a rehash of something he’d already felt, seen, heard, smelled …

There hadn’t been anything **_new_** to experience in over a thousand years. Or so he thought … or so he had falsely _assumed_.

But _this_? What she had done to him. This was something entirely different. Something entirely … **_new_**. She never wanted him to change, she never expected him to hide _himself_. She relished in his strength and she did not fear him. She challenged him constantly and then after he’d opened up her underlying secret, he had realized he was no longer alone.

This wasn’t something that he had to cultivate over time. This wasn’t something that he had had to coax _himself_ into slowly. In fact, it was something he actively tried to refuse. No, this had come crashing into him with suffocating force. He wasn’t even sure when it had really happened, but when he had realized, he fought it, harder than he had ever fought anything and with such pure desperation that he had _hurt_ her.

But _now_ this was stronger than any _hunger_ he had ever felt or any _revenge_ that he had ever sought. He had lost control, and he needed to control everything; as that is how one survives. In his frustration, he had been cruel to her. Those words that night, he realized, had been more for himself than her. He was trying to convince himself, needing to keep her at a distance, but the pain that he inflicted on her actually _affected_ him. _Him … of ALL people. **HIM.**  
_

He had finally come to terms with the reality of this situation. That _she was his_ … **_and_** … as terrified as he had been of it … **_he was hers_**. _Completely. Utterly._

This was the end; his last day existing. He’d wished for the end for so long; he’d grown so very, very tired of life in general. The monotony, the repetition, the people, the places, this mission. But now, he wished he could stay. For the first time in over a millennia, he wanted to stay … _here with her._ He wanted to show her his home; he longed to take her to Rome, Greece, Barcelona. He wanted to experience the old world again for the first time, through her eyes, with her smile and her wonder. He desired for her to show him how the new world worked, he wanted her to teach him all of the new, fascinating gadgets that she loved and understood. He wished for years, or months, even days. Now, only hours were left.

Shame spread across his entire being. He had _months_ , though, and he had squandered them. He regretted so very much at this moment.

_No more._

_No more regrets … no more delays._

She was here right now, and there was no other way that he would wish to spend his final day, so far from home, with her in his arms. 

>   _Fate was a cruel and sadistic bitch._

**_He procedurally removed all of the layers of wet and nearly frozen clothing from her cold and shivering body._ **

He gently pushed the coat off first, letting the soaked garment fall to the floor heavily around her feet. Pulling the long sleeve shirt up and over her head, he tried to keep her face and hair from the wetness, as it was the only part of her body that had survived the creek’s frigid touch. He hesitated slightly as he started to remove the sleeveless shirt the same way, but he pushed all shyness and thoughts of _modesty_ from his mind the moment he felt her trembling fiercely again, her eyes closed as tightly as possible. He pulled it up and off, dropping it to the floor with the others and the moment that it was free of her arms, she brought them in an X across her chest.

Next, he reached for the straps of her undergarment, but her eyes opened finally for the first time since he’d carried her from the creek and she pulled back firmly, shooting him a glance that warned him to stop. He returned her glare with a concerned and exasperated look before attempted his action again, and she repeated her refusal … _again_. He sighed heavily but complied, leaving it in place _for now_.

As she continued to shiver violently, her hands shriveled into small, half formed fists, as they rocked against her wet, but covered curves. Her lips were still a faint bluish in tint. He knew she was _too cold_ and he worked to remove the rest of the offending clothing. He moved to her shoes next, kneeling and pulling her feet up, one at a time, and slipping the small boots off, followed by the wet socks underneath.

From his kneeled position, he unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and she gave no immediate refusal to this. The pants were soaked through and she undoubtedly wanted them off. He pulled them down, while he stared up to her face, locking eyes with her and affording her every ounce of modesty he could.

“ _I am sorry._ ” He said with concern but held his tongue at the lecture that nearly escaped. 

> _Why did you run off?!_
> 
> _That was dangerous?!_
> 
> _Look at what has happened?!_
> 
> _I might not have been able to find you!!!_

_No_. There would be no _lectures_. He didn’t wish to spend his last day with her chastising her for acting on her emotions. He had no right to degrade _anyone_ for that as he was one of the worst offenders.

He pulled each of her feet up and out of the legs, as if he was undressing a doll. Her lack of all movement had made him think her a doll. This type of cold was incapacitating and numbing, and the paralysis that it attacked her with was absolute. He did _not_ attempt to remove her soaked underwear, as he knew he would meet the same refusal as with her other garment.

He stood, removing his coat and then his jacket before he wrapped his large arms around her small frame briefly, allowing his warmth to touch her frigid skin. He used the jacket as if it was a towel as he attempted to dry off her body as much as possible, rubbing the dry cotton against her timid skin. He embraced her again firmly and though his body temperature was markedly higher than humans, he knew this would not be enough.

The cabin was still freezing inside, and he took the wool coat and brought it around and down on her shoulders before he scooped her up quickly in his arms and moved across the miniature wooden building to the area in front of the inactive fireplace. Though the rug that graced the ground in front of the hearth was uncomfortable, he needed to get her as close to the fire as possible and he set her gently onto it. She was still too unresponsive to give _any kind_ protest to _any_ of his actions and he worried. She hadn’t even muttered a word to him since he’d found her and this was very unlike her.

Moving quickly, he piled the old but dry wood into the stone arch. It _had_ been used within the last year, at least. He assumed this meant the chimney was still functional. He was an expert at starting wood fires, sparking it into ignition quickly. He’d done it for millennia now, of course.

He disliked the color of her lips intensely as they resembled his own eyes and he removed the scratchy wool blanket from the uncomfortable looking sofa before removing his boots and finally collapsing behind her on the floor, pulling his coat away from her before he wrapped it around the both of them and he embraced her from behind, sharing his incredible warmth with her from behind. Burying his forehead against her braid, he took a deep breath of her in and he rattled loudly as he breathed it out, finding her hands with his and intertwining his fingers with her frigid ones.

 _Oh gods. How he would **miss** this Earthly smell. _ He thought to himself what a strange thing this was to think, as he was sure he would not _miss_ anything, _would he_? Barqan had not been entirely _forthcoming_ with what his fate might be, but the implication had been oblivion. Could he _miss_ anything from _oblivion_? For the first time in his very, very long life, Quintus felt incapacitatingly mortal with the thought of his _impending_ destiny and with this, he felt a tinge of fear.

When the fire began to catch and crackle in front of them, Quintus tightened his muscular arms around her as he began to rub her upper arms back and forth. At first, she had flinched slightly at this motion, but there was _no protest_ , regardless of how angry he _knew_ she was with him. Even though he was not used to this kind of complacency from her, he enjoyed that she was within his grasp, completely and entirely now.

She took note of his warmth, specifically from his bare hands that he had wrapped around hers, and within minutes, she had finally begun to animate again. His clothing was masking his direct heat from her skin, but she sighed out a breath of welcome as she began to slide her fingers under the rim of the longsleeved shirt at his wrists, her skin desperate to find more of his. She pushed up the fabric, greedily trying to expose more of his fascinatingly warm skin to herself.

He took direction quickly, pulling back from the embrace only long enough to remove his shirt and then wrap his strong arms around her yet again. They both sighed in relief as she attempted to pull his arms even tighter around her. In a furious attempt to steal more of his heat, she turned around to face him, and enveloped his torso in her own small embrace, taking in as much of his body as much as she could within her trembling arms. Burying her face into the bare skin of his chest, she alternated cheek and cheek, as she shuddered and sighed again.

He found her nose was the coldest, but not by much, as all of her body was still far too frigid. He allowed her to crush herself against him for whatever heat he could provide. He held the blanket around them and slowly it started to cultivate his heat within its weight. He pulled back to look at her closely, and noted that her lips were now a pale pink. _Good. Better._

She attempted to pull her legs up closer, nearer to his heat, but it was awkward in their sitting position and he found it uncomfortable when she attempted to sit cross legged _in_ his lap, so he opted to lay down against the scratchy rug, parallel to the fireplace instead. She had watched him with a minor pout upon her lips as he pulled the blanket away and laid down before opening his arms and offering her a position within them.

She accepted _his offer_ without delay, burying her face back into his chest as he tucked the blanket around them both again. She rubbed her feet back and forth against his socks, trying to create heat through friction against the cotton cloth. He took action quickly, meticulously pulling off each of the socks with his toes alone and exposing them directly to her skin. She grunted happily as he rubbed her frozen feet against his. _Oh Gods_ … Her little toes were _so cold still_. He figured this was easily payback for his similar thievery of her heat the night before.

At that thought, Quintus realized that they were back into the position they were in earlier _this morning_ , when he had fled from her in such a hungry rush. He smiled slightly as he realized he had been returned to her, in a more refreshed state. He wondered if they might be able to pick up exactly where he had left off, but he resolved himself to warm her first. She was likely still very angry with him. If their roles had been reversed, he knew he would feel the same.

She _hated_ that she needed him so much at this moment and he could tell as much from her face. He had learned to read her clearly, over the weeks and even through the dreams. It had taken time, as she was very good at obfuscating her feelings, but he had paid so very close attention to every bit of her. He had witness and catalogued _all_ of her little beautiful tells.

How she would brush her right eyebrow with her middle finger when she was feeling insecure. How she would flick the tip of her nose fleetingly with her index finger when she was about to be disagreeable. How she she would suck in her cheeks lightly and bite the flesh of them within her mouth, giving her face a very subtle sunken look when she was fuming. He saw _this_ now but he understood _why_ and the look on her face was crippling.

As her body temperature started to normalize, she was finally warm enough to recoil her arms back to her own body as she folded them across her chest, shielding her curves from crushing directly against him. She was trying to keep some modicum of distance between them now though she still longed for his warmth. He flared his nostrils as he realized she was creating some kind of line, to keep _survival_ separate from intimacy.

She was warming quickly now, even her feet and her perfect little nose were almost back to normal temperature. He squeezed her firmly within his arms, enough to cause her to gasp slightly as he brought his forehead down and touched it against hers, but she recoiled at the intimacy of _this_ act. This did not deter him as he stared patiently at her closed eyes, longing for them to open. He wanted her to see him now; he _needed_ it.

 

## ~~~ DAWN ~~~

> _So long_
> 
> _I waited so long_
> 
> _Now you don’t see the skies that I do_
> 
> _My sun becomes your moon_
> 
> _For a familiar love_
> 
> _I am familiar love_

Her legs were now the coldest part left on her and she moved them up and down vigorously, to cause a bit of friction against him. His skin was so warm, but his pants, just like the other clothing, was masking it from her. She wasn’t about to ask him to remove them for her sake, but she heard him grunt slightly at her motions.

It was a grunt at _first_ , but the last one was a low growl followed by his sweet and subtle rattle. He pulled her even more firmly, crushing her folded arms and almost causing her discomfort with his strength and it was at that moment that she noticed that he was crushing her against _something_ else on his body.

Her surprise was immediate and severe as her eyes bolted open. She’d never … _felt_ this part of him before. Even on the couch, he seemed to keep this part of himself at a distance from her. Even throughout their kisses, she had doubted he might have even been interested in proceeding, but whatever doubt she might have had quickly abated as his forehead pushed against hers and she found his eyes staring back intently into her. He breathed out fiercely with another rattle and moved to rub his nose against hers gently pushing his hardness against her … _again_.

_Oh my god._

She attempted to pull back, to rip herself from his arms entirely. She was warm enough; she would live. “I … _I’m sorry._ I didn’t mean … That wasn’t intentional … ” He was strong, and he did not permit her to pull away at all as his arms locked her into place.

“ _Sorry for what?_ ” He purred so softly, the slightest hint of a gentle rattle escaping his words and his eyes closed as he rubbed his nose against hers softly, “Why should _you_ be sorry that I find you **_lovely_**?”

Embarrassment flushed her face and she was not interested in being a conquest for him before he died. They had been clear with each other that they had not desired the same things. He did not really want this and she was suddenly ashamed that she had caused it. She should not have been so eager for his warmth. This wasn’t what she had intended …

_… was it?_

She pushed harder, but he was unflinching. He was so close, his nose still touching hers, and he moved the angle of his head so that his mouth approached hers. At this, she pushed hard against his forehead with hers as she refused. The grumble from her throat caused him to pause.

“I find you lovely.” He repeated the motion of angling his head now, trying to meet her lips with his. She repeated the same motion again, in utter refusal and he groaned in disapproval as he pushed the hardness of his body against her again and she could feel the truth behind his words, _firmly. Very firmly. **Holy crap**._

 

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

Her mind was resisting him, but it was only her mind. He could feel her body preparing for him already, and this only enhanced his need further. Her body temperature was rising, her heart rate bounced higher and he could smell that moisture building up. He could almost taste it again, as he had on the couch. He pushed his body against hers as a full rattle escaped his strigoi throat.

He angled his face forward again, and she refused … again, pushing his forehead back using hers as a lever. That was three times now she had pushed him away, but she hadn’t said “no” yet. He could hear the throbbing that had started within her depths and a savage twitch erupted within him. _Oh gods._ He couldn’t believe that he had _just twitched._

_Damnation._

As he rubbed himself against her, thrusting his hips forward, he was unsure if he would even be able to stop now if he tried. He spoke, “I have never wanted anything as I want _this_ … as I want _you … right now_.” She pulled her head away, creating an unbearable distance between them and she stared deep into his eyes, “Mr. Quinlan, I—“

“… _Please … please …. **Quintus. My name is Quintus,**_ ” he pled as he closed the vicious gap and rubbed his nose against hers repeatedly. Bringing his hand up, he gently held her jaw in place, on either side of her mouth, within his heated grasp. He would not let her escape again.

“Quinlan, I—“ _Damnation_!!! He _hated_ that she would not call him by his name anymore; it was his fault as he knew he had broken something that he desperately wanted back … that he desperately needed back. He halted her attempted rebuttal by pushing his mouth towards hers again. His grip prevented her from pulling away from him, and his lips met hers.

_Oh gods._

He rattled as he pulled back with pure disappointment, for his kiss had not been returned. He normally loved her defiance, but he found it frustrating now.

Rubbing his nose again, he released his hidden truth. He had never even admitted it fully, even to himself, but in this moment, he desperately _needed_ her to know. “ _Diana_ ” He purred her _given_ name and her eyes grew wide. He’d _never_ used it before, _never_ even hinted at _knowing_ it, but it caught her attention nicely.

“I have _never_ wanted anyone as much as I want you … as much as I have _wanted_ for you … _longed_ for you … _ached_ for you. I have never craved for the touch of another as I hunger for yours.” Her eyes grew sad and he _knew_ she wanted desperately to refuse him; she wanted desperately to disbelieve him. As he pushed to kiss her again, he found this time the end of the gentle kiss was almost returned … _almost_.

He rubbed her nose with his, and kissed again. This time, he was sure it was returned. He repeated the action, and now he _knew_ that she had fully kissed him back. _Oh gods._ He shuddered at the thought of it and what he planned on doing next. His body twitched at the realization that as the storm raged around them was acting to sequester them from the world and any distractions that might interrupt them. There would be _nothing_ to stop him this time.

There was no _deep thirst_ for blood now. This was _not_ a dream. There wasn’t an inconvenient Exterminator ruining the moment. And most importantly, he had freed himself of whatever anchor tied him down before and thus he would _breathe not a single word of deterrent_ to her. No, at _this_ time, however long it may be, and in _this_ place, he was hers and she was his. This was happening, and he had wanted it so fiercely, so guiltily … for so long now. He was a willing servant to it.

The next kiss, he ended with a brush of his tongue against her lips for the first time and her eyes stared down at his mouth with raptured eyes. The subsequent kiss, she opened for him and his tongue swiftly yet briefly met hers. He had been shy on the couch, to show her this somewhat inhuman part of her, but he wished to taste her fully now. He repeated the action while he groaned slightly under his breath.

He pushed his body against hers showing his readiness, his stiffness and while he kissed, his fingers found their way around to her back as he easily unhooked the wet garment with a single hand. When he tried to pull it away, her arms remained in their defensive cross, shielding her curves from his undressing. She was embarrassed, she was ashamed and she was sad. He repeated, purring the words into the shell of her ear softly: “ _Lovely_.”

He smiled at her defiance, and she still refused to move her arms as her eyes saddened as she seemed content to fortify herself from him. He would need a better plan of attack for this fortress. He kissed her again, but less gently this time, penetrating her mouth with a length of tongue that was not humanly and she gasped pulling back abruptly. Yes, this had been his intention, and as she was entirely distracted by it, he used that moment to pull the garment away completely. His eyes fluttered down in time to see their beauty only briefly before she covered as much of them as she could with her arms.

He repeated into her ear as he kissed her cheek, “ ** _Lovely_** ”. He peppered her cheek with kisses all the way down to her neck now. He realized she had not touched him back yet, and he almost considered stopping his advancement but shook the thought. She was so unsure of herself, but he could feel and smell her desire.

Gently taking her wrist from its protective position across her breasts, he pulled it up to his face, placing it on his scarred cheek and as he turned his face to it, he kissed her palm lightly. He was apologizing to her and he kissed it again, before pushing it tenderly against his cheek again.

His brows furrowed as she pulled her hand back and he could see the tears forming in her eyes, “I can’t give you what you want, Mr. Quinlan. I’ve already told yo—”

“ _And what is it that you think I want?_ ” Before she could answer, he stole another kiss from her lips. His body was aching and craving and _throbbing_ with vicious and painful anticipation now. It had been such a very long time since he felt the pleasure of a woman. And, on some level, he knew that he had never actually felt _this type_ of pleasure before.

“You want to feel something before you die tonight.” Her eyes were almost full of those tears now, and he watched as the volume of the liquid overflowed from the corner of her beautiful eye, trailing down her cheek. He wiped it away quickly with his thumb and kissed her again, on her lips, on her cheek and on the trail of tear.

Her words were _true_ , but entirely irrelevant, as that was simply **_fact_** , “ _I already feel it._ I have been **_feeling_** it since first we met.” He pushed himself against her making her gasp slightly as he pulled her body against his firmness, holding her there. Refusing to relent, he unleashed _another kiss_ across her thin lips.

The kisses were glorious, but he used them mostly as a distraction at this point, as his lips and tongue danced with hers, his hands floated down to his waist as he quietly removed his buckle, pulling his belt free smoothly and laying it to the side slyly. As much as he wanted, his actions did not go unnoticed as he heard her heart race and he pushed himself against her yet again. His strength coupled with this intense hardness caused her to gasp into his mouth again. Her body was apprehensive again as he felt the tension and he yielded to this growing nervousness by pulling away from her. But only slightly … only enough to whisper to her.

“I have been a _coward_ … to you. It is _unacceptable_.” He took another nibble of her lips, and his tongue frolicked with hers for just a moment. “Please … allow me to **_atone_**.” His mouth distracted further while he unbuttoned his pants mutely and she had not noticed until she heard that _damn zipper_ again and she pulled back.

“Quintus. I don’t think this is what you wa– “ He smiled at her use of his name **_finally_** , but he was impatient now, interrupting her immediately.

 

## ~~~ DAWN ~~~

His voice was soft and velvety as the rattle that lied in its undertone leaked through and was intoxicating to hear …

“What it is that I _want_ … that I _need_ … is to die without this regret. _I regret so very much that I have done in my life._ I do not just want to “ _feel something_ ”, I want to feel _you_ , **_libellula_**. I _ache_ to feel _you_ … I **_need_** to feel _you_. **You**.” 

> _His breath …_

“It has _always_ been **_you_**.” 

> _His words …_

“At _that_ pond … ” 

> _His hands …_

“The goddess told me then … “ 

> _His touch …_

“Before **_you_** were even born … ” 

> _His lips …_

“You were _promised_ to me … ” 

> _His kiss …_

**_“You.”_**  

> _His body …_

“It has _always_ been **_you_**.” 

> _His heart …_

“And I have waited _so very fucking long_ … ” 

> _His surrender …_

**_“For you.”_**  

> _His **love**._

It didn’t matter if the words made total sense to her, because she could see they did to him and he shuddered as he confessed them to her. She had so many questions right now. _What pond? What goddess? Why did he keep calling her dragonfly?_

But her questions no longer mattered as his words had shaken her. She realized at that point in time if she continued to push him away, she would regret also. She swore to herself, in that concrete room, that he would never own her soul, but somehow, even in that moment, she might have already known _it was already his_ … it might have **_always_** been his.

She was _amazing_ at holding grudges, over years of rejection and heartbreak, it had become her forte, but the thought of that regret was penetrating as it crippled her anger fully. Yesterday was dead. Tomorrow would be _dead_. Today was **_alive_**. And right now, he was here … telling her that he wanted her more than he had _ever_ wanted anything and she was _sure_ she felt the same.

And she succumbed to him in _that_ moment. The apprehensive tension melted away from her body as she trailed up the skin of his chest, grazing his jaw as she touched his cheek and he nuzzled it against her palm. There was no resistance in the next kiss which caused them both to sigh heavily before the mood of the embrace changed. There would be no more breaks to allow each other to breath, they breathed through the kiss itself, gasping for air in unison.

 

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

There was no further impedance of his affections as his hands felt their way around her torso, gliding his fingers up her spine before he brought them down her arms and ending their lingering journey on her hips as he grabbed them firmly, evoking a pant from his companion.  

During this, her hands had found their own way back to his face, and her right hand had slowly moved up as she caressed the bare skin of his head, as he purred mildly and his eyes rolled back into his head as he barred his teeth to her. Her fingers across the skin of his skull, inciting such delicate torture that he sneered at the action.

Releasing her hips, he wiggled his body as he pulled his pants down just enough room to be free of the clothing and he felt the cooler air hit his aching member. He briefly considered removing them entirely, but he would get to that later as the anticipation was simply too much to bear.

Reaching around her leg, he gripped the inner thigh, pulling her apart gently and allowing him to push his hips into place all while still lying parallel to her on the rug. Her eyes attempted to flutter down and he smiled at her curiosity; she wanted to see him. _No. Not yet._ His hand was on her jaw promptly holding her face in place as he stole another chaste kiss and then another. He wanted to watch her face … he wanted to watch _her eyes_.

 _Oh gods. It had been soooo long._ Quintus had a moment of brief imbalance as his nerves reared up, but he wrangled them calmly, reaching down between her.

The under garment was still wet from the creek water, but now at least it was warm. He wished he had removed it altogether earlier, regardless of her protest, as now it was an inconvenience. He would not be pulling out of her arms to accomplish it now.

As he had no plans to pull out of her arms to accomplish this, he simply resolved to remove it soon, but not now … as he could not wait any longer. Her eyes widen as his fingers trailed the edge of underwear, his fingers curling around the delicate seam as he pulled it to the side, brushing her hair lightly with his knuckles and completely exposing her. The thought of this _exposure_ …

 _Do not twitch. DO NOT DO IT._ He did not and his confidence was fully returned as he smiled on her, biting on his lower lip slightly but her body filled with tension as she trembled at the sight of his grin.

 

## ~~~ DAWN ~~~

Perhaps it was his obvious confidence in what was about to occur or perhaps it was Dawn’s own lack of it, but once she saw his wicked little grin, she felt herself rushed with inadequacy. It had been over a year now. She hadn’t had sex in _over a year. Shit._ She knew he could read it on her as he questioned.

“Do I make you _nervous_?” He purred lowly.

“No, no. I… “ She stuttered as she apologized, “I’m sorry. It’s … it’s been a while for me.”

He rubbed her nose gingerly against his, “I _assure_ you. It has been _longer_ for me.”

His stare never left hers as he held her chin in place, peppering her with kiss after kiss. He swam in those dragonfly eyes, lost for several moments before he pushed his body further into place, continuing to hold the underwear to the side with his two smaller fingers, while the rest of his eager fingers angled his shaft down. Burrowing the tip into her hair, he flicking it slowly up and down several times until it touched her warm flesh hidden within. He repeated, up and down, several _more_ times until her womanly lips gave way, opening up and enveloping just his tip as he nestled it against her opening.

Their reactions to the shocking sensation were in unison.

“Oh.’’ She managed as her shaking hands flew to his chest, pushing on it gently with her palms.

“ _Mmmmm_ ” He hummed through closed eyes as his forehead touched hers, rocking it back and forth.

There was a moment of brief hesitation, when neither one moved from their position. Quintus’ eyes remained shut, but his brows furrowed timidly as he pressed against her head. “Do you want this?” He questioned as his eyes finally opened.

There was _no delay_ in her response, “Yes.”

His brows furrowed further, “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure … you want **_me_**?”

There was _no delay_ again, “ ** _Yes_**.” He’d lowered his guard for a moment and she was relieved she wasn’t the _only one_ nervous. Kissing with pure confidence, they shared a new kind of embrace. It was slow but lacking no passion. It was giving to each other more than it was taking.

 

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

> _Your love_
> 
> _Made my heart go boom_
> 
> _So I might lose myself in you_
> 
> _  
> _
> 
> _And I fall_
> 
> _Into your breathing_
> 
> _I inhale all you speak_

‘ _Yes_ ’ was a good answer, but Quintus wanted … _needed_ … to hear more from her lips. He _needed_ to hear that she wanted him.

He pulled away from the loving kiss and stared “ _Tell me_ … “ He asked of her. “Tell me that you want _me_.”

“I do want you, Quintus. I want _you_. **_You.._** ” She answered both with these words, putting an emphasis on the word as he had done, and a slow but deliberate grind of her hips against his impending penetration, greasing his tip with her inviting body as she moved it around.

 _Yes_. In this fleeting moment before he would take her fully, he expected something to occur, something in the universe that would halt them. Perhaps this was simply a dream again and he would wake up. Perhaps the cabin would start to collapse under the weight of the storm that raged outside. Perhaps … _something_ ...

Nothing did. He purred loudly while he thrust into her and her body gave considerable resistance, fighting his girth at first.

_Oh gods._

_Tight._

_So **fucking** tight. Quite literally, Quintus. **Quite literally.**_

He knew better than to be surprised by this, as most women were, simply due to his size. He struggled to retain his composure as he penetrated a bit more, before pulling out slightly and then trying to push in deeper than before, spreading her moisture more evenly down his length to lubricate the experience. He repeated this motion three times before he was as far inside of her that he could manage at this angle and he rattled intensely before he sighed heavily as he had accomplished it.

He watched intently as she had bit her lip at the first push, gasped and furrowed her brows at the second, and groaned at the third. Her hands had trailed up to his face, but once he was inside, they found their way down to his sides, gripping his flexors as they thrust into her. The skin of her hands was soft and he enjoyed their exploratory contact as he rocked in and out again. Her tightness was still resisting him and though he didn’t wish to hurt her, he did not relent as the friction was mind numbingly lovely.

He _needed_ to get deeper … he needed a better angle and he pushed her shoulder gently, casting off the blanket and rolling her carefully onto her back as his body moved with her, never leaving her warmth. Her arms no longer being defensive allowed him to see her breasts now, fully uncovered, and he found them beautiful, but he was finding everything about her lovely, all of her obvious perfections as well as her ill-perceived _imperfections_. 

Gripping those magnificent mounds softly at first and then more firmly as he pushed even deeper, purring into her neck as he kissed it, making his trail down to lock his lips on her hardening nipple.

 _Mmmm_.

He looked down, rocking in deeper and shallower, back and forth, a combination of gentle and firmness in all of his movements.

Everything pushed and erupted and longed within him now. He had been so very wrong when he told that redheaded bitch that all women felt the same on the side, because Dawn was _so much warmer_ than any he’d had; she felt and smelled _so much better_ than any he’d had in the past. Though she was still moderately cooler than him, the difference in temperature was _incredible against his skin_ and he found himself groaning loudly in harmony with his increasing thrusts. 

He usually made no noises, but he was full of them now as her hands raked his back, grabbed his arms, tugged on his hips and brushed the bare skin of his head. He had realized, nearly too late, that he was actually enjoying it _far too much._

**_OH GODS! QUINTUS!_**

 

## ~~~ DAWN ~~~

He abruptly retreated from her, releasing an immensely frustrated grunt as he did so and she expressed equal shocked as her mouth dropped agape to let out a small, disappointed moan. A twitch erupted within his shoulders and he grumbled lowly, sneering to himself.

“You don’t need to hide that from me.” She said, but she was unsure if he’d heard her completely as his pant filled rattle sent tremors through their intertwined bodies. Finally, he managed with a heavy breath, “ _I’m sorry … sorry … I …_ “ but instead of continuing on with his hasty explanation, he kissed her hard now, purring under his breath, affording her another kiss as he hovered above her.

Though she wished him to return, she enjoyed the short reprieve from his incredible heat. It had _almost_ been uncomfortable as she felt her body starting to bead up with sweat and as he hovered above her, she appreciated the cabin air providing her much needed time to cool down.

His tongue, again, on her lips, across her teeth, waltzing with her tongue. His taste had been different than she expected, but it was pleasant nonetheless. His saliva had been thicker than a _human_ ’s. _It was nearly sweet, with a hint of something metallic and rusted within in it._ His mouth, overall was **_much_** wetter than hers and his tongue itself was a fascinating texture, clearly far more muscular than hers.

When she had first explored it earlier, she felt the folds on either side of it, where it would split to release his _stinger_ and she played with that fold for a moment _now_ , pushing the tip of her greedy tongue against it and breaking its seal slight. He grunted as _this_ slightly as he pulled away from her kiss and she offered a hasty apology.

“ _I’m sorry I–_ ”

“Do **_not_** apologize to me. _Never apologize_ to me …” Another kiss, “… **_Never_**.” He gave her back his mouth to explore however she wished.

 

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

He had wanted to last longer. No, it was not _only_ that … he had _told_ her he would last longer and he had nearly … He was shocked that he had let himself get _lost_ that god damn quickly. It had almost been over already. _Almost_. His dismay dissipated instantly as he accepted that he always seemed to get lost within her. Actually being _within_ her now simply exacerbated that to the next level of insanity.

He refused the embarrassment that wished to cripple him and now he stayed unmoving, halting the kisses as his forehead pushed against hers for a tortuous amount of paused time. His eyes closed, trying to enact control over his breath. Her hand was on his face and he nuzzled his cheek against it, “ _Quintus_?”

“ _Mmmmm_.” Was all he could manage to answer at the moment, continuing to nudge her hand against his face.

He attempted to slow his heart, it’s beating was relentlessly furious within his chest and his movement next was sudden and confused her slightly, pushing himself up and off of her as he opened his eyes widely to gauge the curiosity that spread over her marvelously spotted face.

 _Patience_.

He moved down her body leaving kisses in his wake, stopping at her curves to finally taste each of them properly but only briefly albeit satisfyingly as he suckled on each tiny, pink nipple engorging them with blood. He continued his path downwards as he kissed her belly button, moving his arms underneath her thighs as he watched her face and her eyes grew big with worry.

Once she realized what he was positioning himself to accomplish, the dispute was immediate as he expected. Her eyes grew even wider with objection and she tried to pull herself away and to sit up. He prepared for this, thwarting her revolt by grabbing each of her thighs and jerking her hips down to meet his face firmly. She attempted to sit up again, and he saw the worry only growing.

“No, no, no … _please_. You don’t have to do that. **_Please_** –” she had started and he could see the embarrassment flush across her face with sweet redness, “ ** _Please_** , I … “ She was almost pleading with him now. In all honesty, he actually expected this reaction, but he still found it most odd, he’d never had someone protest _this act so fiercely._

He _knew_ she would enjoy it, as he’d had literally over a thousand years of practice and he had received no complaints once he had learned to perfect it. He was the best at many things, _this_ , there were _no doubts_ in his mind, he was sure was one of them. He had even been told as much and on many occasions. This was a point of pride for him.

Her defiance made him smile again, but he ignored it as he needed time to rest himself and he began by carefully breaking the undergarment in half, pulling it free and tossing it across the room with a grin.

“ _Hey_!” She complained and he grinned as he looked back to investigate what he had uncovered more closely, beginning to part the hair with his exploratory fingers.

He could have removed it, leaving it intact, but he knew if he gave up his current vantage point, she would use the opportunity to pull away her hips away from him and he had no wishes to fight her back into this position. He was certain that she was probably already planning the counter attack in her mind. In her awe at his audacity, she gasped and her hand immediately attempted to cover what he had ruthlessly exposed for his mouth. Her heart jumped as he viciously growled at her in playful anger, grabbing her wrist to move her hand away. He held it firmly to the side while his other hand went back to exploring.

The growl conveyed its message well. She could _continue_ to fight, but this was going to happen. The Born had already made up his mind and his lips met hers, his tongue sliding its way between her folds and finding the nerve cluster immediately.

Her protest melted almost instantly, as her hand which had been trying to eagerly push his forehead away changed its tactic and her palm rubbed against his head, pulling his face deeper into her as he began the gentle movement of his tongue against her.

“ _Ohhh … **kaaaay**. _ ” She gasped a whispered surrender as Quintus won the battle.

Her taste was _richer_ than he thought, but overall, it was exactly as he had imagined from its smell and the earthy undertones and anise sent ripples of goosebumps along his normally smooth skin. He did not feel cold like _humans_ and goosebumps were an entirely rare occurrence for him. Unlike his first taste of her blood, _this_ was immediately lovely and he’d been speculating about _this_ taste for months, he realized. A hum escaped his throat as his eyes rolled gently back into his head.

 _Damnation_. _This_ was actually not helping his need to calm himself, it had simply rekindled the fire he was trying desperately to control or at least _subdue_ with this … sweet yet savory _interlude_.

As he continued, her lower back arched in acceptance and affirmation and he used this opportunity to remove the remaining layers of clothing still covering his bottom half and once his fingers were free again, they entered her and she writhed in pleasurable defiance. He watched her face as he flicked her mercilessly, moving his teeth so very gently over her _most delicate flesh._

His fingers found their way inside of her in all possible places. Everywhere he wanted, where he had just been and where he had not. Where he knew she would be sensitive and where he knew she would fight him. She tried to resist, the ecstasy of it, her eyes massive with moderate confusion, but he freed one of his hands and pulled her forcibly down to her back again until she realized the exquisiteness of this gift while both of his hands worked in tandem, ebbing and flowing with each other in harmonious glory. She collapsed against his experience, succumbing to what he wished to do to her. _Utterly_. She was his.

He _knew_ he could make use of his strigoi anatomy now to make her writhe in fantastic enchantment and _beg_ him for mercy. He knew because he’d done this to others, many times, but he would not. No, he was going to love her this time as a human, as a _man_. He would not violate her with the part of him that was a monster.

Coming to this decision pleased him and he felt himself stiffen more, though he had no idea how that was even possible at this point; the pain in his loins was bordering on insanity. His body was burning for hers now, and the ache was more than tortuous. He grunted into her flesh with agonizing frustration, lapping delicately and mildly within her folds.

_Oh gods. Please._

“Oh my god … Quintus … _please_ …” her words mimicked his thoughts perfectly, her voice but a mere whisper and he felt her body shiver as she began to throb within his lips. He could hear, smell and taste that she was beginning to rumble inside as she pulled his head into her harder as she rocked her hips into his face with a rhythm. He kissed and rubbed her clit between his lips to match the rhythm her body was demanding and then her small moans **_finally_** escaped. He knew she was quiet but he’d _never_ taken _this_ long to break a partner into noises before.

**_Defiant little minx._ **

He grinned at his final victory as she continued to melt into his control. This pleased him so _very much_ but her movements were getting more deliberate and he knew he would need to stop soon. Not quite yet though as his fingers worked within, exploring and cataloguing each new groan and moan and grunt with a spot, with an action and with an angle. He probed the inside of her with _vigor_ , seeking that special location. It was different with each woman and she might not even have one, but he would not forfeit the possibility yet. That most sensitive spot which might match the sensitivity of the cluster of nerves the he relished in his mouth right now. That would make her …

“ _OOOHHH_!!!! “ the cry was almost deserted in nature and she tried to furiously push him away again causing him to smile with his achievement.

_Excellent. There it is._

Up until the point, she had been watching him carefully, but now she relished his touch as her eyes rolled back into her skull and his did the same. Freeing his other hand, he reached down, stroking his cock with growing anticipation.

The sounds… the noises … _**His** Poet. Yes. **His**._

“… _Quintus … fuuuck_ …“ She had started to beg and he waited _dangerously_ close now before pulling himself away, wiping his wet mouth with his equally slippery hand and then his hand on the rug, drying it as much as possible. She might continue on, even without his touch. He’d had _others_ who simply couldn’t stop at this point and though it was a risk, he found her sounds intoxicating.

Her rhythmic motions ceased and her body relaxed onto the ground as her eyes opened and searched for him in almost drunken wonder.

“ _Not yet, my goddess._ ” he spoke and purred with the slightest rattle through his smile as he repositioned himself to his knees and she came back to life, lifting herself up to her elbows and seeing _him_ , in all of his glory, for the first time.

 

## ~~~ DAWN ~~~

She had been embarrassed of even considering letting him do what he had intended. It had been a day since she’d showered, razors were not easy to come by and she honestly felt like she was a mess. In the end, she was grateful he didn’t _seem_ to care, but now she stared at him in all his glory as she gulped.

She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting to see, but she was surprised to find that _this_ part of him was completely human, large and uncut. The last part, she realized, shouldn’t have surprised her, he was born nearly two thousand years ago. But he was _absolutely_ perfect in this respect and honestly, more than just a little intimidating.

 _Had **that** been **inside** of her? How could that have even **fit**?_ That explained the initial discomfort at least. She thought maybe it was because it had been such a long time, but no, she’d never experienced something quite that long or _… um … **girthy**. _ Her eyes grew wide and this only fueled his grin more. He waited just a moment before clearing the air.

“Do I make you _nervous_?” He asked again as he nibbled on her ear lobe, sending chills up and down her body and she offered no reply, not wishing to insult him as he obviously did.

“I told you … I have no _handicap_ ,” She blushed furiously as she shook her head in a lie and he smiled, collapsing on all fours above and around her and feeling him pushing against her again as he attempted a kiss which she dodged. She could still smell _herself_ on his lips and his hand immediately went to her jaw, holding it in place with fortitude as his next kiss was not refused. Parting her lips, she conceded and welcomed his strange tongue and the metallic taste that followed.

He wasted no time as he tried to re-enter her, but as she felt him prepare, she wiggled up and away from him and his look of disappointment was almost serene. Watching but not stopping her, he cocked his head to the right as she pulled her legs up and twisted her body around underneath him. Partway through her spin, he understood, lifting back to his knees and grabbing her hips, helping to slide her into place in front of him, with her back now facing him.

Placing a hand between her shoulder blades, he pushed her top half down to the ground as the rest of her was presented to him fully for the taking.

She wanted to see him, to watch his face as he _breached_ her, but her mind twisted on the thoughts of _Tomorrow_. He had been looking at her with something that was beyond simple intimacy and this was too much for her to deal with right now. If he took her from behind, it would have been less personal. She _knew_ he was planning on dying, and she had never seen him enjoy anything so much, and she did not wish to ruin it with her approaching tears.

_He would not see her cry from behind._

 

## ~~~ QUINTUS ~~~

> _Pulling me further_
> 
> _Further than I’ve been before_
> 
> _Making me stronger_
> 
> _Shaking me right to the core, oh_
> 
> _I don’t know what’s in the stars_
> 
> _Never heard it from above, the world isn’t ours_
> 
> _But I know what’s in my heart_
> 
> _If you ain’t mine I’ll be torn apart_
> 
> _  
> _
> 
> **_I don’t know who’s gonna kiss you when I’m gone_ **
> 
> **_So I’m gonna love you now, like it’s all I have_ **
> 
> **_I know it’ll kill me when it’s over_ **
> 
> **_I don’t wanna think about it, I want you to love me now_ **

Quintus hadn’t wished for her to turn away. Desperately wanting to stare into her eyes; to watch her face; to kiss her lips while he entered. But he complied, guiding his hardness up and down, finding its way between her lips that were even wetter now and eventually starting to push within, carefully yet confidently and the sensation sent ripples of goosebumps over his entire body again. He didn’t wish to hurt her and in this position, it was more likely due to his size and excitement. The sound that she made following his first thrust did not please him, but he attempted one more, thrusting deeper than he had been before and it was more of a whimper than a moan. She was small and he was … not.

 _No_ , not like this. He did NOT like that noise … _right now_. Perhaps later, but not now.

**_Absolutely not._ **

He grabbed her elbows, pulling her to her knees in front of him as he retreated from her warmth entirely. His hand came to her cheek to turn her jaw for a tender kiss and he felt the wetness on her face.

_Tears? Damnation._

Quintus pulled away and turned her around to face him. He knew he had not hurt her enough to evoke these but he knew her tears were because of _him_. He knew, because _he knew her._ She was constantly thinking, mulling, pondering and even now, he knew she thought of _tonight_. Angry with himself, he chastised himself as he should not have let her turn away.

His hands fell to hers and he sat back with his knees in front of him and he pulled her onto his lap, not entering her again quite yet. His hands went to her face, and as his thumbs wiped the tears from each gloriously spotted cheek and kissed her so very, very timidly.

“ _Be here … With me … **Now. Today.**_ ” He received a feeble nod yet her eyes remained closed but she returned his kiss. He purred as her hands were on his face and then around his neck as his found their way around and squeezing her torso, compressing _so tightly_ that she gasp. And finally finding their way down to her hips, bringing her up and sliding her flesh down and around his girth as she moaned wonderfully.

 _Yes. Like this._  

He liked _that_ noise and he liked it when she bit his lower lip in response to him pushing her all the way down around him, nearly hilting as he pushed her down around his cock forcefully. His twitch was so intense, he could tell it shocked her and in his haze he tried to stutter an apology.

“No. No, never apolo — **_uhhhh_** — gize for — **_uhhhh_** — _that_.” He was disrupting her sentence on purpose and he loved that with each thrust up, she could no longer concentrate on her words. Breaking the poet’s concentration was a feat indeed and Quintus was so very pleased with himself. He bit her, he touched her, he fondled her everywhere and she did the same. 

His hands on her hips, rocking her back and forth as she found her preferred rhythm against him. Her hands greedily caressed the skin of his check, neck, face and then swirls.

_Oh gods._

The swirls. Her fingertips brushing them, touching them, digging into them. He had twitched, moving her hands away at first and eventually returning to caress her curves afterwards, but she was defiantly undeterred and those soft greedily minx fingers found their way to his neck again but this time he relented to it, allowing her to torture him with sensation.

“ _Uhhhhhhh_ … ” This time it came from Quintus himself and her mouth replaced her fingers and she gently kissed the sensitive skin on his neck as he was continuing to rock her back and forth, letting her hips slip his length in and out of her.

_Oh gods._

He was relieved when she found his mouth again and retreated from his tortuously tender skin. Her lips on his swirls, her skin against his, and her moisture greasing their union … everything together had felt _thunderous_ , but he had easily outlasted their first attempt.

He returned to her rhythm, controlling his motivation and not losing himself quite yet. Meeting her movements, but not exactly. Not … _directly_. He offset his own tempo, ever so slightly. As she ended her stanza to start the next, his pelvis would move to slightly rock against her, nudging her in the special spot gently before he followed her back to repeat again. He knew where it was now and he knew his own angle so this was now easily to knowingly accomplish.

Her initial response to this delighted Quintus _most of all_. She had laughed, but not in a loud and overwhelming way. It was a tiny laugh, conveying almost _disbelief_ and barely audible under her labored respiration … uttered quietly to _herself_. She was not expecting whatever he was doing to her and as she was pleasantly surprised by it at once, Quintus did something that he had never done in front of her … in front of anyone for over a millennium. He laughed loudly in response, which proved contagious to her.

In their laughter, they brought their heads together, noses touching and he stared at her closed eyes, watching every micro-expression blossom across her spotted face in wonder.

He _knew_ before she spoke, he could already hear the blood pumping as it had when he had his lips nestled within her folds … “Quintus .. I’m—“

“I know.” He spoke in a raspy whisper.

He heard the throbbing, he heard her heart. “Wait. _Wait. I’m going to—_ “

 _“I know_.” He interrupted her again.

“No, no.” She tried to push against his chest, to halt their harmony as her back arched and he shook her slightly, to wake her from her panic and her eyes opened, meeting his stare.

“ ** _Yes. I know. Do not hold it back. I am ready also._** ” He panted as he rocked, playing his thrusts against her hips as her head and body grew limp the instant before erupting with exquisite electricity.

_Oh gods, **that** sound._

He had hoped to time it better, but it was enough as his own unleashed fury overlapped her by at least half. They convulsed together, cringing into the cold air of the cabin, making more noise than the storm winds that howled outside. When hers had arrested and he felt her relax in his arms, trembling with release, he continued to thrust up savagely and without any amount of mercy now, his strigoi strength getting away from him as he caused her to cry out one last glorious time before he spent himself within her depths.

They collapsed into each other’s arms, resting their heads on the opposite’s shoulder, holding each other fiercely as their body still _throbbed_ against the other’s. 

> _**The cabin will return …** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>    
> 
> 
>   
>  **Fruition // The Strain FX Fanfic[“A Savage Inconvenience”](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com)**
>
>>   
>  “What it is that I _want_ … that I _need_ … is to die without this regret. _I regret so very much that I have done in my life._ I do not just want to “ _feel something_ ”, I want to feel _you_ , **_libellula_**. I _ache_ to feel _you_ … I **_need_** to feel _you_. **You**.”
>> 
>> _His breath…_ “It has _always_ been **_you_**.” _His words…_ “At _that_ pond… ” _His hands…_ “The goddess told me then… “ _His touch…_ “Before **_you_** were even born… ” _His lips…_ “You were _promised_ to me… ” _His kiss…_ ** _“You.”_** _His body…_ “It has _always_ been **_you_**.” _His heart…_ “And I have waited _so very fucking long_ … ” _His surrender …_ ** _“For you.”  
> _**  
>  _His **love**._  
>  __  
>   
> [“A Savage Inconvenience” Chapter 16, Part 7](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/157252585373/chapter-16)  
> 
> 
> ####  [See Original Fan Art Post Here](http://quinlantheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/157330226725/fruition-the-strain-fx-fanfic-a-savage)


	122. 16.8 - Fruition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The final part of **A Savage Inconvenience** : Part 1 of Straining for Originality. See the end for more notes.

 

She watched him in silence, with pensive eyes as he eventually stood without a word and walked to the area in which he had undressed her earlier. He had not bothered to reclothe himself as he didn’t wish it to _hinder_ him later.

As he wrung out her wet clothes, he grinned ever so slightly as he saw her sit up within his peripheral vision, clutching the scratchy blanket to her sternum, keeping herself mostly covered. The fire was roaring fully now, but the air in the cabin was filled with drafty breezes as the cold leaked in from its poorly sealed door and windows.

They had laid together in absolute peace for at least ten minutes _after_ , not a single word spoken yet, before Quintus finally stirred, begrudgingly pulling away to attend to wet clothing. She would not be able to leave until they were completely dry and after wringing them out sufficiently, he hung them carefully from the rusted hooks hammered into the wooden mantle. It would take a couple of hours in front of the fire’s heat, but it mattered not for Quintus planned on spending more than just _a few hours_ here.

She still watched intently from behind and as he turned to face her. She shifted her gaze from his bottom shyly, trying to hide her flushed embarrassment and he smiled again. He explored the small kitchenette next, fishing around in the tiny cabinets and drawers until he found the items he sought.

The first was a small hand towel. He handed it to her and she blinked at the offer initially before she realized that it was for _his mess_ which he knew was currently defiling her inner thighs. As the realization dawned on her face, she flushed with scarlet cheeks, taking it from his hand sheepishly and he continued to grin with pleasure again at her prolonged shyness. He challenged himself to rid her of that by the end of _their_ day.

There was no running water, but the snow would provide what _she_ might need, and he cringed slightly before opening the door to brave the cold wind in all of his bare glory. Working fast to scrape the snow from the closest window sill, he filled the second item he’d found with snow: a large metal pot. Shutting the door immediately as the storm continued its barrage on the landscape outside, he left the pot on the hearth to encourage melting. He moved back to collapse on the ground, burrowing under the blanket beside her.

He grabbed the _now_ dirty towel, smelling his stickiness covering it, and set it away from them, keeping it in reach for the next time she would need it. His hands greedily found her skin again, sliding them around her back to crush her firmly against his chest as he kissed her neck and then her mouth … _again_.

His hands continued further exploration, floating down, over, and behind her hips as he took handfuls of her cheeks, using the grip on her flesh to pull her against his growing hardness. A smile graced her face at his _obvious_ intention but her body tensed as she tried to pull back slightly to speak, ending the muted silence _finally_ with a question, “Should we … get back? The others are probably worr–”

The interruption was immediate, with a rattled purr as his voice reverberating through their touching bodies, “Your clothes will need to dry.” He hummed confidently. “The storm is unrelenting.” He smelled the tender spot behind her ear deeply as he spoke, “ Besides … “. His right hand surrendered its grip as he touched her spotted cheek with eager fingers, “It is only _early morning_ … “ He kissed … _oh gods he kissed_ , “ _We have all day and … _“ His tongue brushed her soft lips, “__ ** _I am not yet satiated._** ”

What Quintus failed to realize at _that_ moment was that he _never_ would be.

_He couldn’t be._

 

  _Gif by[@sensualkisses](https://tmblr.co/mnjGURl9kYLkvgl7HO5xtig)_

 

* * *

_  
_

The storm had abated hours early and as the afternoon came to a slow close, the light that illuminated the winter clouds retreated past the horizon, tension in the cabin ran high. Of _all_ the people, it was Gus that paced back and forth like a man who’d lost his normally sane mind.

“We should go look for them.” He repeated again for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“It’s _Quinlan_. I’m sure they’re fine.” Ephraim shrugged it off, hiding his own growing concern as he rechecked his gun and sword again and again. He’d been prepared to leave since the morning, “Besides, he’s gotta come back for _that_.” He tilted his head to the case that still sat on the counter, exactly where the dhampir had left it. No one touching it since then.

When the knob shook briefly, there was a shared sigh of relief and when the knock sounded on the door, Gus leapt forward, unlocking it as as the wayward pair re-entered the cabin.

“Where da fuck have you two been?” Fet questioned with innocence.

 

* * *

 

“Miss Velders, may we have a word?” Quinlan asked, nodding his head for her to follow him outside and she popped up from her seat quickly.

“ _Right_. Sure …” Her motion was _almost_ hesitant as the dhampir had never asked to speak with her in private before. The commotion of everyone preparing kept the uniqueness of this interaction private.

Stepping into the cold brisk air of the porch, Quinlan turned to her once the door was shut to afford them adequate privacy. He handed her a small folded piece of paper, “This is for _you_ , Augustine, Vasily, and Ephraim. And if you wish to share with the other Doctor, that is up to _you_.”

“What … “ She blinked as she accepted the paper from him, opening it up carefully, “What is it?”

“Account numbers.” He stated plainly.

“Uh yup … I can _see_ that.” She said, “But _what_ is it for?”

“I am unsure how much of the world will still be intact in the wake of my _Father’s_ … tantrum, but if most of it is, then this should suffice for the four of you. I will no longer have use for it.”

Dutch stared at the paper for a moment as she cleared her nervous and somewhat excited throat, “Umm … _ok then_. So … uh … exactly _how much_ are we talking about here?” She squeaked, unable to take her eyes from the numbers as she seared them into her photographic memory.

Quinlan did not answer as he handed her _another_ piece of paper, one of equal size and folded the same way but a dark ‘ **D** ’ was written on the front of it. She took it with wider eyes as she opened it to reveal several more account numbers within. Many more than the first paper, “ _This_ is for _her_.”

Clearing her throat again, she asked, “And how much is in _this_ one?” Dutch wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that he refused to answer, but the possibility of what **_that_** might mean caused her hands to shake very slightly.

He tapped the second piece of paper in her hand, reiterating, “For **_her_**.” Then he tapped the first piece of paper, “For the **_rest of you_**.” She stared and he tapped again, slightly frustrated, “Do you understand me, Miss Velders? _Her. You._ ”

She finally managed a small nod and he still seemed unsatisfied, “ _For **her**. For **you**. Repeat it.”_

Dutch coughed, “Yup. _Got it._ For _her_. For _us_. Got it. Yup. No worries, _love_.” Her eyes still unable to look away from the paper as she seared the new numbers into her memory as well… _just in case_.

Quinlan stared at her, not appreciating her flustered reaction, “Do not make me regret trusting you, Miss Velders.” He threatened politely.

“Nope. _Nope_. I got it. _Her_ and _us_.” She waved the papers towards him as she rocked herself out of the slight euphoria her imagination had nearly crippled her with. Finally looking up to him, a chill ran down her spine as the seriousness on his face was _very clear_. She thought it very possible that _he might crawl up from his own grave_ if she did _not_ carry out his final wishes, “I got it. I _promise_.”

“And _this_ …” He handed her a legal sized piece of paper that had been folded into thirds. She immediately opened it to find a very lengthy letter handwritten in fabulously beautiful script. She was unable to decipher it as she didn’t speak Italian. “This is for a man in Rome … _if he still lives_. His name and address are at the top. _Antonio Ferrari_. He is my Estate Manager. Do not tell him that I have … _passed_. He can be a tricky man, usually trustworthy however, I know he will be more _inclined_ to follow the instructions in this letter if he thinks I live still. Fear keeps men like him honest.”

“And … “ Dutch looked at the impressively detailed and delicate cursive signature at the bottom of the letter that read **_Quintus Sertorius_** , “And what _instructions_ are _these_ exactly?”

“For him to give it all … to _her_.”

Dutch carefully refolded the paper and fiddled with it in her hands, “Got it.”

Quinlan clocked his head to the right, “Are my _wishes_ clear, Dutch?”

She looked up with another nod, “ _Yes, love. Crystal_.”

 

* * *

 

After Dutch retreated back indoors, Quinlan stood on the porch and waited for the _Boxer_ to return to the cabin. He had said he needed to check the gas levels in the truck, but as he came back, Quinlan spied Fet’s large duffle bag slung across his shoulder.

“What is the bag for, Mr. Elizalde?” Quinlan pondered to him.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re comin’ with you guys, _bruh_.” Gus stated as he came up the stairs and Quinlan shook his head.

“ _No_. You will stay here with the others.”

“You think I’m gonna trust the survival of the world to good old _Goodweather_ in there? I seen him try to take on–”

“ _Mr. Elizalde_ , this is not a request.” Quinlan snapped.

“You ain’t listenin’, ese. **_We’re_** **_goin’_**.”

Quinlan cocked his head, “ _We_? **_No one else is going_** _.”_ He sneered in obvious frustration. Why was it so difficult for them to take simple direction?

“ _You sure about that, bruh._ ” Other than the first time they had met in that alleyway, he’d _never_ seen Gus act this blatantly confrontational towards him.

“ _Everyone_ else is goin’. We decided when you went on your little disappearing act today.” Quinlan was mildly taken aback by the _Boxer_ ’s tone. Was that … _anger_ he heard? Or was it _jealousy_?

“ _No one else is going._ "  Quinlan repeated, “I _need_ you to stay here, Augustine.” He gripped the man’s arm fiercely now as Gus attempted to walk passed him, “Do you hear me? I do _not_ require your help. I _need_ you to stay _here_. I _need_ you to look after _her_ when I am _gone_. Others may come for her still. We must have words so that you can understand _what_ she is before–”

"It’s not my job to look after _your girl,_ **_ese_**. That’s **_YOUR_** _job. Maybe you shoulda considered that first.” Gus spat at him with disappointment._ Quinlan was momentarily speechless as he scrutinized the situation and gazed on the young man. _Was Gus upset that he was going to die?_ _Surely not._ _No_. But as he thought on it, he was taken aback again by the sudden emotion the _Boxer_ was conveying. Gus was _normally_ so very good at restraining all of his emotions.

“Do not assume that your _appreciation_ towards her has gone … _unnoticed_.” Quinlan found himself sneering at the _Boxer_ , the raw emotion between the two spilling out suddenly, and he found himself quite angry with the entire situation. Uncharacteristic of him, emotions leaked into his raised voice and penetrated his words with reckless abandon. So much jealousy, anger, and fear. He had but one single consolation as he realized this, that out of all of these feelings, at least _regret was absent_.

But there was no time for this. He needed to meet Barqan and The Keepers. Right now, Gus needed to know _everything_ that he knew … everything that he _should_ have told her, but hadn’t. He _needed_ to tell Gus **_now_** and this _fit_ was not helping things.

“ _Unnoticed_? _Appreciation_?? I think the cold’s got to your brain, _cabron_!” Gus cocked his head as he thrust his arms out in a menacing and almost gangster way, challenging the dhampir foolishly.

“Augustine, please pay attention. You will need to leave the area immediately after us. I do not trust _Goodweather_ to–” Quinlan attempted to warn before the _Boxer_ rashly interrupted him.

“ _Whatever_. _‘Sides, I ain’t goin’ for **you** , _puto_._ ” Gus spat and his words suddenly made sense in the dhampir’s brain. _Wait … who would he be going for then?_ No one else is going!

Turning from the _Boxer_ , Quinlan re-entered the cabin and saw everyone within, including the redheaded doctor, preparing to leave … _with him_. _Everyone … Dawn_ was in the process of checking her own firearm. There was a brief moment of silence as Quinlan chastised himself for not seeing this much sooner. She had not brought it up **_even once_** all day and he had assumed that her _unusual compliance_ on this issue had just been ultimate acceptance of it, but no. It had not. She had been quietly planning her _defiance_ for later.

_Damnation._

“Stop this, at once.” He commanded the room. He commanded them. He commanded _her_.

“We are in dis together, man.” Fet said merrily, seemingly happy with their decision to join Quinlan in oblivion.

“Yup. We can help. We’re going.” Dutch was matter of fact about it.

“Told you.” Gus said.

“No.” Quinlan said but the room continued to buzz with preparation as the humans simply ignored his instructions.

_Unacceptable._

He approached her, placing his hand on the gun in her hand to arrest her reloading for a moment. His heart lurched as she stared up at him with wide and _happy_ eyes, a smile quickly spreading across her spotted face, “This is _too important_ for you to do on your own.”

“There will not be enough time for _anyone_ to get away.” He said lowly and shook his head, “I appreciate the sentiment–”

 _Oh gods._ Her smile. She was so very pleased with herself at this moment, “The plan isn’t to _get away … right?_ ”

“ _No_ …” His voice was filled with disbelief. _Was she implying … No._ How could she be _thinking_ this? He shook his head fiercely now, back and forth, “ _No_. There is no reason for this. I need you to live. I need you all to live.” He swept the room with a fleeting look before returning to her eyes.

“If this is our _Hail Mary_ , then it’s best if _everyone_ is on board. Besides, we can use _her_ to distract him.” Ephraim offered.

“Yup.” Dutch nodded while she chucked a small device to Dawn, who plucked it out of the air with ease, “She’s gonna wear one of Fet’s little wild life tracker. Just in case _shit goes sideways_.”

Did she really think he could just … _let her die_? He felt insanely hypocritical at _that moment_ , as he was expecting her to do that very thing for him, was he not? 

He could see the look on her face and he could _feel_ that the decision was already made. There would be no deterring her. For a moment, lost in her eyes, he had a momentary lapse of judgement and he wondered hopefully and foolishly, what would be the consequences if they ran _right now_. If he just took her hand and they left with the truck. How long might they be able to survive?

If Barqan was wrong, though he _knew_ he wasn’t, they would be hunted. Could they last days? Weeks? Months? Maybe even years? Could he … _would he_ … be that selfish? No matter how much he might _hunger_ for what little time they could squeeze out, it was simply not worth the price if that cost was the existence of her very _soul_.

There was _little he could_ do to change her _defiant_ mind. _Little_ … but not _nothing_.

He nodded to her, providing false hope of _his own compliance_ as he cupped her face in his hands. He stared down to her, tears welling up in his own eyes as he considered his choice. He normally wouldn’t have shown such affection in front of the others, but he wanted to taste her one last time.

 _“Donate mihi.”_ He whispered to her as he bent. 

> _[(Forgive me.)](https://translate.google.com/#la/en/Donate%20mihi) _

The kiss was sweet and as he pulled back, he brushed the tip of his nose against hers one final time.

 _“Et hoc non patitur. Non possum.”_

> _[(I will not allow this. I can not.)](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/I%20will%20not%20allow%20this.%20%20I%20can%20not.) _

As he touched his forehead to hers tenderly, he closed his eyes, speaking to her for, what he assumed, would be the _last time_ , “ ** _Te amo, _ _libellula__._** ” 

> _[(I love you, dragonfly.)](https://translate.google.com/#en/la/I%20love%20you.) _

There was a moment of intense calmness as the embrace soothed his internal conflict. It was a simple and fleeting instant before he felt her tense suddenly, as she realized _something wicked was about to happen_ and when he broke their last _gentle_ moment, his movement was _savage, lacking all mercy_.

Stepping slightly behind _as_ he spun her around by her shoulders, he scooped her neck into the fold of his right arm, avoiding her trachea. His left arm found its way behind her head as he started to flex his muscles carefully and she began to claw with desperation. The pressure on her arteries was significant and _severe_.

He was sure she’d _never_ fought so fiercely as she did in _this moment_ , and as he heard the people around him screaming at his action, everything seemed almost surreal to him. His eyes closed tightly as the tears streamed down his cheeks and he flexed his muscles even tighter while she pulled at his arms, at his hands, but her fingernails scratched uselessly against his layers of clothing.

Other hands pulled at his arms, trying to break his hold on her. He could smell it was both Fet and Gus, but he was stoic as his body became immobile and he felt her legs kicking wildly at the open air as he heard her panicked and crazed cries. Her battle, though impressive, was absolutely _futile_ against him.

She should have been out by now and, _by gods,_ she was strong _right now_. Her strength easily matched Fet’s now, but it mattered now, he was still a demi-god compared to her and when he heard the click of the hammer to his right, he finally opened his eyes, turning his head to see the barrel of Gus’ gun pointed directly at his temple.

 _“LET HER GO, MAN!”_ His hands shook terribly with the ballsy act and Quinlan only tightened his muscles further, glaring at the _Boxer_. “I ain’t askin’ twice!” His brows furrowing as Quinlan made no move to concede to his obviously hollow threat.

As her legs finally began to give way, he felt the rumble starting and Gus’ gun hit the ground while most of the humans around him grabbed their heads in agonizing pain, falling to their knees and then to the ground.

 _Oh gods …_ **_she was doing this to them_** , just like _his Father_ and the other _Ancients_. Her voice became louder and shriller and overwhelming as he heard her pleading to him from within, **_begging_** him.

_She never begged …_

_“Please … Quintus … ” _He had _no response_ as he closed his eyes again, feeling her body growing weaker under his continued assault. “_ Please … don’t … leave … oh god … **__please__** don’t leave … me … Please … don’t make me stay here … I can’t … without you … I lo …”_

Her last thought trailed off as he felt her body go completely limp within his arms. He held her in place for a few seconds longer to ensure her unconsciousness. Scooping her up into his arms, he laid her down on the couch that the two had shared just _this morning_ , leaving one final touch of his lips on her forehead before turning to survey the room and the destruction of her power.

Gus, Fet, and Dutch were on the ground, motionless but breathing. They would live. Ephraim’s mouth was agape and Rubinstein just stared with wide eyes while her overly long fingernails covered her mouth in shock.

“You both are unaffected by this?” Quinlan asked them.

Ephraim shrugged as he accepted the _Born’s_ action quickly, “ _The Scream_ has _never_ affected me.”

“Then perhaps you will be of more use than I _realized_.” He fished the truck keys out of Gus’ pocket and grabbed the duffle bag filled with Fet’s explosive “toys” before retrieving the case from the counter. As he opened the front door, he turned back to Ephraim, “ _Well_? Are we going?”

 

* * *

 

The ride was quiet and for this, he was _thankful_. Rubinstein had demanded to come with them. There was some argument between her and Ephraim about it, but Quinlan left them to discuss it on their own as he sat in the truck.

In all honesty, he had suggested that Ephraim accompany him, not so much that he needed help from the good _Doctor_ nor to give the man a chance to save his son. No, it bad been far more _sinister_ than that. Quinlan wanted to maintain control over him as he simply did not _trust_ him. There was little doubt in his mind that the _Doctor_ , given the opportunity again, would betray them all. _Her_ life for _Zack’s_ … he could see it in the desperate father’s face that it was something that he struggled with _daily_.

Quinlan was considering an unthinkable action once they had gotten away from the cabin to utterly prevent any possible deception from the Doctor, but seeing his immunity to The Scream, he would wait. They _both_ might prove more useful to him alive.

As they approached the rendezvous where the _Black King_ and his _Keepers_ awaited them, Quinlan wrangled his sadness and fear, breathing deeply as he remembered the dark woman’s words.

_Calm your fire, Quintus._

* * *

The _Djinn_ and Barqan proved worthy allies and as they aided _The Keepers_ in leading the masses away from the small island with loud and deliberate distractions set off by the contents of Vasily’s pilfered bag.

Quinlan wanted to get as close to his _Father_ as possible and as Ephraim piloted the boat across the rocky river, he listened carefully to the silence around them, remembering his conversation with the _Black King_ a mere hour earlier.

“You think he will be fooled by this ruse?” Barqan doubted.

“The _Master_ has always been … _foolish_ , especially when it feels it is safe. This is how I was born, after all.”

“Fair enough. Then we will give you time. As soon as he realizes the danger, he _will_ pull his soldiers back.”

“I will require only seconds. Where is he?”

“He is on **_Ahsudagu-wah_**. The _Black Site_. An island.”

“I do not understand why he would on an _island_. He cannot cross running water. I find this _unlikely_.” Quinlan had balked at the _Djinn’s_ information.

“He is there. He hopes to _alleviate_ that weakness soon.” Barqan said, all the while unable to draw his attention away from the beautifully fake doctor. He’d been quite enamoured by her since they’d arrived and Quinlan snapped his fingers in front of the _Black King’s_ face.

“ _Please pay attention_. What do you mean he plans on _alleviating_ that weakness?” Quinlan questioned.

“I am _always_ paying attention.” A merry chuckle. “It is where he fell, _Prince_.”

“Fell? From Heaven?” Quinlan doubted.

“ ** _From Grace._** It is where _Ozyrel_ was cast down and rent asunder. Where _The_ _Traveller_ and _The_ _Messenger_ cut him into _seven_.”

“Did you see this happen?” Quinlan was curious.

“No. No. It is only a whispered story. Only _the Four_ were present during his … _punishment_.”

“And why is he there now?”

“When he was bled there, essence was lost into the Earth beneath him. He hopes to recollect it. He seeks to make himself whole again. He has already collected the divinity from the other _six._ ”

Quinlan nodded as he turned to begin their journey and Barqan reached out to him, grabbing his arm to reiterate an important point to the dhampir, “ _Remember, Prince_. You must make sure this does _not_ happen. You will _not_ be able to defeat him if he is whole again. He will no longer have _any_ weaknesses … not silver … running water … not even _sunlight_. Do you hear me? Not even _The Face of God_.”

“ _Understood_.” Quinlan stated plainly, though his disbelief was clear. He’d met his _Father_ before, he was not overly impressed but Barqan shook his head, not releasing his arm yet.

“ ** _Hear my words, child._** _Heed my warning._ You have _never_ faced anything like _Ozryel_. He was the first to breathe existence in this entire world. _The First of the First._ He is the Right Hand of _fucking God Himself_.”

“ _Understood_.” Quinlan said again as the seriousness on the _Djinn’s_ face sent a particular shiver down his spine that he was _not_ used to feeling. _Fear._

“There are _only two_ that could even hope to _match_ him in battle, and neither of which are _you_.”

Quinlan nodded again, “ _Understood_.”

“Good luck, my friend.” Barqan offered him a hand to shake and Quinlan accepted, “I hope that we meet again someday … _sooner rather than later_.”

“You wish to join me in _oblivion_?” He said as he turned to leave again.

“One last thing, _Prince of Snakes_.” Quinlan stopped and awaited his words without turning back to look at him, “You are _not alone_. _There are friends ** _ _everywhere__**._ ” He could read that it was a veiled message but there was little time to discuss this further.

He had a _Archangel_ to slay … _finally_.

 

* * *

 

>   **Note** : I’ve always thought, since [The Strain started with _Poetry_](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/153826672233/hunger-the-poet-once-said-is-the-most-important).  It should end that way as well.  Also, this was always supposed to play into the previous chapter, as a nod to [Dawn](http://strainingfororiginality.tumblr.com/post/154341014993/chapter-11-surrender).

He promised himself that he would not think of her again, but every movement he made and everything that he saw, sparked something that would evoke a memory of her in his mind. Everything that happened was as if he was living _that poem_ in real life and he could hear her sweet, yet angry voice as she had recited it to his _Father_ that day in the cellar, with his sword in her hand …

They approached the tiny island and Ephraim turned the motor off to afford them some amount of surprise, yet he knew his _Father_ already heard them. He was surprised that it was so easy for him to cross water himself. He had usually felt _some kind_ of discomfort, but he knew he had been changed since his introduction to _The Connection …_ _In Nexu_.

As they waded onto the land from the southern bank, they fought the vicious waves that threatened to slam them against the large rocks that sprawled across the miniature beach. A delicate but dense mist had enveloped the entire area and a fine sprinkle started to fall down from above as Quinlan drew his blade in one hand and a gun in the other, the duffel with the case slung across his back.

Motioning that he would go first, the humans followed him up the rocky incline and as they ambled up behind him. It felt like the mist was getting denser as they approached the center of the island.

He was first over, having a full view of **_tulgey_** woods ahead. Motioning again for them to follow him silently, they hit the trees and he found his own heart racing with delicious anticipation of what was going to occur, his sword shaking slightly as he weaved through the dead forest as it eventually opened up to a small **_wabe_**. Though a sundial was not located at the middle of this _grassy clearing_ , but rather an ominous figure sitting in its very center.

Around the dark shadow, six white oak urns were dispersed in a perfect circle, and a seventh at the center, in front of the figure. He could read the same _Enochian_ symbol etched into the top of each one and with his preternatural memory, he remembered exactly which one it was: **_Alandonu_** , the seal of **_Gathering_**.

Quinlan eased the bag off of his shoulder gently, allowing it to touch the damp soil beneath him, but he saw the figure’s head shift slightly with the movement. It was too foolish to think they had managed to sneak up on the **_Jubjub bird_** undetected.

“ _You are too late, my child._ ” The _Master’s_ voice radiated with happiness as it stood and turned to face his progeny **_with eyes of flame_**. Once removed from the vantage point directly in front of the seventh container, Quinlan could see that the mist was actually coming from the container itself. It seemed to be filtering something from the Earth itself, and the mist was the residue generated from this _process_.

“You _underestimate_ me again, _Father_.” He smiled as he spoke, moving himself from the bag as he glanced very briefly at Ephraim. He realized he would need to run a distraction for the humans to carry out the final act itself.

“Oh no. _Never_ again, **_my beamish boy_.** ” The _Master_ burbled with a smile at using _her_ phrase while the _Born_ shrugged, “It is _you_ who will be _underestimating_ me tonight. I am _not the same_ as I once was.”

Quinlan cocked his head to the right as he stepped forward, noticing a delicate metallic mist, which emanated from _each_ of the containers, ambling across the grassy ground towards its feet and finding it’s way up it’s pants, disappearing as it absorbed the power completely.

 _Damnation_. It had _already_ begun.

His bullets were dodged and Quinlan gave up on the gun entirely, chucking it to the ground, as he moved as fast as possible sprinting towards his _Father_. He raised the blade to strike, but instead collided with the beast like a freight train. With little effort, the sword was struck from his grip as they tousled into the dense mist which hung on the low ground, their strengths clashing with absolute fury.

He had never felt this _type_ of strength before and he lost the match nearly instantly as the _Master_ mounted him, bringing its fist up as a gorilla might, and smashing down onto his face with force he’d never imagined possible. Quinlan felt his face snap and crack under the force of it, and his _Father_ repeated the action until he felt his body become limp as it refused to fight back. Paralysis set in as he heard his spine shatter under weight of the third blow.

_Ephraim … 2 seconds. That is ALL that was required. ** _ _DAMNATION__**._

**_FUCKING DOCTOR._ **

Quinlan assumed this would be his last thought, as he saw his _Father_ raise up, preparing for the last _vicious_ strike with its primate fists. He was imagining that this blow would likely _decapitate_ him when he heard the first gunshot ring out right before its bullet ripped through the _Master’s_ bicep. The beast flinched and the next bullet pierced its throat. Quinlan knew there was _no way_ this was Ephraim, his aim was _terrible_. It was Rebecca and her _aim_ was marvelous, as always.

The next shot would have connected with the _Master’s_ head, but it was already moving, away from the dhampir as he heard it covering the ground to halt her appreciated assault. He cringed as much as he could with his broken face as he heard his _Father_ break the woman and her body crumpled to the ground. Even if he could _move_ , he wouldn’t have been able to see her death, as the mist was only getting thicker as the _Master_ gained its strength back.

He assumed his _Father_ would be back to finish the job, but as he laid paralyzed, he heard conversation ensuing as it started to _taunt_ Ephraim instead, **_“[Onondaga language. The invading Europeans did not care to translate the name correctly, or at all. You see, Goodweather? Cultures die. Life is not circular but ruthlessly straight](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Night_Eternal).”_**

The rumble was unusually quiet. This time it was specific while very hushed, yet angry all the same. That all too familiar voice whispering to him. 

> _“Get up, you little shit.”_

Quinlan couldn’t move. He could NOT MOVE. His back was shattered. What could he possibly do?! 

> “I’ve _seen_ you take _worse_. I’ve _seen_ you _endure_ worse, **_boy_**. **_Get up_**.”

He couldn’t even move his fingers … not even his tongue. His spine was crushed and it would take hours to heal a wound of _this_ magnitude. 

> “There is a reason he _fears_ you. A reason that he has _always_ feared you. **_GET UP._** ”

He tried. _Oh gods_. He tried again. _No._

> _“You didn’t even land a blow. Two thousand years of preparation for you to fizzle out with three strikes?”_

He couldn’t even speak back to the _asshole_ voice that chastised him in his mind. 

> **“ _Get up, you little shit. Finish this. Finish this like you ALWAYS said you would.”_**

What the _bloody hell_ did he expect him to do?! He couldn’t move. He could barely breath. Once the _Master_ was finished with Ephraim, he knew he would be next. He had failed … he had failed them all … he had failed _her_. 

> _“Then don’t **fail**. You think you need time to heal? Have you learned nothing? **WILL IT** , you fool. You have no idea what you are capable of … you **never** have.”_

Quinlan furrowed his brows at the thought of that.  _Will it?!_   Wait … he breathed heavily, he … furrowed his brows … how?  _Will it._

“You soul has been _bathing_ in his divinity for nearly two thousand years. Y ou are _not_ a man any longer.  You stopped being a _man_ long ago.”

 _Will it._ Quinlan maintained control in all aspects of his life, and he would maintain control over this. As his bones began to snap back into place, he was glad that he had no control over his mouth nor his vocal cords yet, as he would be _screaming in more agony than he knew he had ever felt._

> “ _Now_ … Get up. **_Finish this_**. Or we _will_ come for _him_ next.”

This pain …. _Oh gods_ … _this pain_ , he felt his neck snapping back into place as the bones fused together back together with burning agony. He felt fire in his veins, in his skin, in his mind, pumping through his heart itself. He felt _flame_ spark within his very _will_. 

> “ _Get … the … fuck … up._ He favors his right side when he’s in pain. _He always has_. Put him in _PAIN_.”

Quinlan could hear the conversation continuing and there was a third voice in it now. It was young voice. Though he’d never met him, he knew this as the young _Goodweather_. It made sense, as the _Master_ could not have come to this island without human aid.

His fingers _pulsed_ with feeling, then his legs, and finally his toes. As the pain subsided, he remembered her voice suddenly, purring that sweet poem that she had recited to him earlier this day, naked and exposed in each other’s presence, laced with addictive vulnerability … 

> He heard an all too familiar poem escape her inviting lips from pure memory alone, though she changed the pronouns to describe _him._
> 
> _Him. To … describe … ** _HIM._** How could **_anyone_** describe **__him__** this way?_
> 
> “ _He_ walks in **_beauty_** , like the night
> 
>      Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
> 
> And all that’s best of dark and bright
> 
>      Meet in _his_ aspect and _his_ eyes;
> 
> Thus mellowed to that tender light
> 
>      Which _heaven_ to gaudy day denies.”

He stood, slowly at first, but confidently at last. New found power pumped through his heart as he realized he just needed to _will_. What he felt coursing through his veins now was different than he ever had before. This was … fundamentally different. Quinlan felt as if he might have been tasting the power of _creation_ itself.

His father’s words rocked him out of this intense flood of enlightenment, **_“_[Sons are meant to rebel against their fathers. It has always been that way.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Night_Eternal)** _”_

Quinlan smiled triumphantly as he curled his fists tightly. _Indeed. In-fucking-deed._

He launched himself from the obfuscation of the mist, connecting with his _Father_ from the back, as he purred in delightment, tackling the _Beast_ to the ground, “ _My thoughts exactly, ** _ _Bandersnatch__**._ ” 

 [Originally posted by upthe-rabbithole](https://tmblr.co/ZHn5_l1jF1n0M)

 Before it could stand, Setrakian’s blade sliced through its back, impaling it from behind as the _it_ arched its back in terrible pain. Quinlan ripped the blade back, his **vorpal blade went snicker snack** as he sliced it open through the side, preparing to take its head next, but his _Father_ turned with incredible speed to face him.

He whipped the blade back and forth, **_and through and through_** , with impressive and extreme elegance that reminded him of his days as a gladiator. Slicing without hesitation, **One, two! One, two!** He cut into the _Monster’s_ arms and hands, with speed and precision he had not even realized he could possess until _now_.

Quinlan took a step back as he faltered suddenly, gasping at air over his sudden increase of agility but the _Ancient_ was undeterred from the pain that was inflicted savagely. Quinlan watched as the wounds healed before his eyes and he felt the presence of the _young Goodweather_ behind, attempting to corner him.

_Unwise, young one._

He heard the boy unsheath a blade, but Ephraim stepped between them quickly, protecting his boy from an unfortunate end at the dhampir’s blade. Quinlan cursed in his mind, as he realized the _Doctor_ had left the bomb unguarded and … untriggered; his focus on his _son_. He locked arms with the _Beast_ and matched its preternatural strength one to one, and neither one seemed to bend to the other’s will.

He heard _his Father’s_ voice intruding into his mind now …

_You have had ** _ _quite the day__** , my boy. Quite the day, indeed. I did not think it possible to experience **__new things__** from you … not after **__all of this time__**._

He sneered as he held his ground before overturning its strength as he pushed forth with anger and annoyance. His fingers grasping its throat with fierce and unyielding rage over its _words_. The flesh and bone of it broke under the power of his hand and for the first time _ever_ , _he pushed a word from within his mind outwards, for others to ** _ _hear__**._

For the first time in his _long_ life … _He ** _ _spoke__** the language of the mind._

 ** _Father_**.  He hissed and in his sudden surprise at performing this feat, he failed to react quick enough as his _Father’s_ stinger connected with his throat, penetrating and violating him as he felt the worms flood into his **_[immaculate](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Night_Eternal)_ ** bloodstream.

_Oh gods. Was this even possible? Could he be ** _ _taken__** this way … by his Father directly?_

Quinlan railed back as he fell to his knees, his hands whipping to his temples as he felt the worms trying to penetrate his body, his brain, his mind … his _very will_.

 _The things I will do with your ** _ _body__** my son. Ah … the things I will do!_ His _Father_ laughed. 

> “You are _The Master of your Fate.  You always have been._ ” The _Other_ ’s voice assured simply.

_Will it._ **_Will it. FUCKING WILL IT!_**

He felt the worms as they started their retreat from his body. He felt them tremble as his command for them to be gone and just as they done from _her_ on that rooftop, he saw the worms fleeing from his flesh as they dropped onto the ground before him.

“I am the captain of my soul!” He spat at the worms as he came to his feet again, spinning to see Ephraim was already within its grasp while his son watched the _Master_ beat the man down, cracking and slamming him against the ground.

“Welcome to my world, _Dr. Goodweather_.” The stinger was in the Doctor’s neck. His _Father_ was now clearly faster than he was, but the _Other’s_ words sounded within his racing memory.

 ** _Put him in pain_**.

Walking swiftly up behind the attacker as it drank its human meal, Quinlan dipped to grab the wolf handled blade as he moved, spearing its spine as he cut upwards, vertically severing the bone from coccyx to temple as the _Beast_ wailed in agony. It reared back as it turned to face its _now free_ son, lunging towards the _Born_ sloppily while _favoring it’s right side_.

The sidestep was utterly flawless, as Quinlan repeated the same move he had executed on the rooftop, suddenly behind the _Master_ as he speared it through the base of its temple, lurching it forwards slightly as the blade sliced directly through the center of its throat, causing it to _gurgle_.

Through the shock of the physical torment, it lost control of the boy’s mind and Quinlan felt the release as it happened. In an _ever so brief_ moment had afforded him enough time grab both the handle in his left hand and the blade in his right, kicking the underside of the knee of the _Master_ as he forced it to buckle before him. He locked the stinger in place just as he’d done on the roof top.

“Dad …” Zack’s young voice hesitated briefly as he knelt to Ephraim’s side while the Doctor bled out onto the ground before him, “Dad?”

The _Master’s_ hands were on the blade as well and Quinlan struggled to maintain control of the situation with its growing power. His eyes widened as his _Father_ did something it had not been capable of before. Simply stepping to the right, it let the blade cut its neck in half, freeing itself completely. It was already too fast and Quinlan knew at _this moment_ , it was also too strong for him to continue to even keep at bay.

 _At this moment_ , he considered the fight was likely finished. No matter how much he could _will_ himself to be strong, as Barqan was so adamant to point out … he could _not_ be stronger. Spinning to face its progeny, it grabbed his neck and he watched in awe as the flesh of it’s neck that had just been cut in half with _his sword_ weaved itself back together, taking less than a second to fuse and heal fully.

_Damnation._

_“_ You cannot defeat me now. I am now stronger than _you_ will ever be. _You are too late, **Invictus**_. As ever … ”

This was when he heard two sounds. One was an incoming helicopter, but it was the second sound that made him grin madly. He heard the distant zipper of the bag and while he looked into his _Father’s_ deep red eyes, he spoke with a chuckle, “ _You fool._ It was _never_ my purpose to _defeat_ you. _I was simply the distraction._ ”

Its eyes grew wide with concern as it turned quickly to see the redheaded doctor, broken, bloody and dying, no more than fifty feet away and an all too familiar silver case pulled into her lap as she pushed the button on top with a weak smile after watching Ephraim take his last breath.

##  **00:00:02**

Releasing him from its grip, the _Master_ began a futile sprint towards the woman though the _Born_ already knew it was too late.

And in this simple and gentlest of moments, he saw _the Poet_ before him as time seemed to slow with everything around him … _everything but her_. Her coat, giant and encompassing her small frame as her golden hair’s wisps danced around her face in the cool gentle breeze that had begun to pass over the meadow, dispersing the mist finally.

##  **00:00:01**

Her smile, genuine and true. Her eyes, glowing with pride. Her voice, light and crisp: 

> **_“And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?”_ **

She collapsed to her knees before him as he smiled and nodded once. _Yes. Finally … _ ** _Finally._** _His ** _ _destiny__** … finally come to___ _sweet_ **_fruition_**. 

> **_“Come to my arms, my beamish boy”_ **

Her arms were open to accept him and he felt himself falling forward into her … into the open air that was merely the _memory_ of her.

 **“ _Oh frabjous day …_ ”** Quinlan said aloud as he replayed _her voice_ uttering the same verse within his mind.

 **“ _Callooh … Callay …_ ”** **_he chortled in his joy_**.

##  **00:00:00**

* * *

 

“ ** _QUINTUS_**!” Her eyes were open and she screamed, springing to her feet as she flew towards the front door. She heard Gus screaming behind her as she jerked it completely open.

“Shortie, wait up!” He called but she was already sprinting down the steps, hauling ass towards the van. They’d been up for some time it seemed, and Fet was wedged under the vehicle replacing a tire as she skidded to a stop, kicking dirt up at him.

“We have to go! _We have to go now!_ ” Her voice was laced with panic.

“I know!  **I KNOW!** I’m workin’ as fast as I can!” Fet screamed.

“That _fucking puto_ slashed a tire to slow us down. We’ll be–” Gus had started to say as a brilliant light filled the night sky, illuminating the retreating storm clouds all around them as if it was daylight again.

“ _Oh god no_.” Dutch choked from the porch and Gus ran as he saw Dawn fall to her knees, her palms gripping the side of her temples as her eyes instantly filled with tears. He melted to the ground behind her, enveloping her within his arms as she rocked back and forth. The shock overwhelming her entire being.

Fet rolled out from under the vehicle, his voice trembling with uncertainty, “Maybe that wasn’t them–”

“No … I felt it. _He’s gone._ ” She barely managed before she collapsed and unconsciousness overtook her.

In the blackness was _her old friend’s voice._

_“It will get better. I promise you, child … it ** _ _will__** get better. But first … it must get so much worse.”_

In this absolute darkness, it was **_always_** Ellie’s voice.

_“But before you can be fully ** _ _fixed__** … before you can understand how to **__heal__** … you must first finish **__breaking__** …”_

* * *

 

> **_Note_** : _If these words sounds familiar, they are supposed to._ ಠ◡ಠ

As he woke, he felt sensations all around him. He felt the grass between his fingers, slightly wet and cold. He felt the sun on the back of his neck, warm and without inflicting _any_ pain. He heard the water running nearby, flowing over large pebbles to create miniature waterfalls.

As his eyes began their timid initial movement to open, the bright light that flooded in caused him to wince, but he accepted it as there was _no pain. None at all._ For the first time in his entire life, Quintus felt no _hunger_ for blood.

As he pushed himself up into a sitting position as he looked down at his white hands, surveying they did still exist. His clothes were still enact and he was dressed the same way he had been only a moment before on that island. He knew where he was and though he should have been confused at the possibility, something in the back of his mind _knew_ **_where_** he _really_ was.

Visually, it was _his pond_ , on _his farm_ … so many years ago, nestled in the hills of the Roman countryside. Everything was exactly as he had remembered. The sun had just started its meandering stroll up and over the mountains. There was a small stream that pushed water through it on either side, but the pond itself was quite still. Not a breeze existed to disrupt the calmness. Flowers lined its edges and lilies floated along it. All manner of bugs were dancing about its life giving abundance, both above _and_ beneath its surface. They frolicked with each other and they spun around Quintus again, in beautiful harmony.

He sat on the ground and began to soak it all in before he stood _suddenly_. He still _existed! No_ , he needed to get back, he needed to find … _her._   _Oh gods …_

In his short panic he didn’t hear the foot step that crushed the crisp grass behind him, though he did hear the voice, gruff and raspy.

At first he saw the large shadow, cast on the grass by the sunlight and as he spun, he saw the _man_ behind the fist _only briefly_. [Man?](https://www.instagram.com/p/BCkrhSsxnKO/)

He was winged with silver feathers and armoured with steel. His hair was ashen, his eyes a rich amber and his skin flawless.

As his fist connected with Quintus’ jaw, the dhampir hit the ground with overwhelming force and he heard this _creature’s_ voice distantly as unconsciousness collapsed in on him.

##  _“Time for judgement, ** _ _abomination__**.”_

 [Originally posted by thats-just-life](https://tmblr.co/ZoqF7t1w0e4Xf)

 

 

##   **TO BE CONTINUED …**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Savage Inconvenience, the initial part of my planned two part story arch, was always supposed to parallel **The Night Eternal**. I was **_ridiculously_** unhappy with how it ended int he books, and though I changed quite a bit in the final scene, **_**SPOILERS** it ended pretty much according to Canon_**.
> 
> Part 2 will be entirely divergent and almost entirely original in its ideas. Thanks for sticking with me so far, and I hope you continue on with the second installment ... while I try to fix the “less than satisfactory” ending that GDT and Hogan left us with.
> 
> FYI - Amber eyes, silver wings and flawless skin –> Is Gabriel.
> 
> There will be a brief hiatus between the two parts. ʘ‿ʘ Sorry, my brain and fingers need a bit of a break. But, expect to hear back from me in a week!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 


	123. Fan Art - Movie Poster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [quintustheinvictus@tumblr](quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com) made an amazing MOVIE POSTER for A Savage Inconvenience!!!
> 
> If you are on tumblr, head over to the [original post](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/168208624740/a-savage-inconvenience-a-strain-fanfic-by-richelle) and help me give it some love.

 

[quintustheinvictus](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/168208624740/a-savage-inconvenience-a-strain-fanfic-by-richelle): 

> **[A SAVAGE INCONVENIENCE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8348572/chapters/24122757) **
> 
> **_A Strain fanfic by Richelle Tallowman@strainingfororiginality_**  
>
>> _**Mr. Quinlan finds himself in a most precarious situation. Alone, wounded and restrained, he is forced, yet again, to choose between his humanity and his survival.**  
>  _
>> 
>> _ℹ️️ This story follows the TV Canon loosely, taking place after Season 3 and replacing Season 4 entirely. It also uses and expands upon existing Novels/Graphic Novels canon to weave it all together._
> 
> This is a gift for my beloved friend @5thinvictus as a tribute to her amazing fanfic series “Straining for Originality” based on The Strain Universe.
> 
> The first part is called “A Savage inconvenience” and follows the story of our team of survivors after the drop of the nuclear bomb in New York City (Season 3 finale), and the story of a mysterious character who, by fated, crosses paths with one of them _, in the most turbulent and inconvenient way._
> 
> Everything seems out of place; the future looks discouraging because of the situation, and the threat looms over them like a sword of Damocles, pointing like a harpoon to its prey. But as the story progresses we will realize, like our unfortunate protagonist, that things do not seem to be as she thought they were, not even him,  _ **not even herself.**_  
>
>> _“Thank you, Dawn.” He gave inflection to the name; he seemed to approve of it._
>> 
>> _“For what?” She blinked behind the barrel of the massive fire arm pointed squarely at his head._
>> 
>> _“For aiding me.”_
>> 
>> **[Chapter 1 on Archive of our Own](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F8348572&t=NjNjMDU1Zjk1NTQyNzJjZjQ0NzM1MDU2MmE3ZGVkYWZhMjhmMzQzOCxZOUFnS0N1UQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AF-Bqvg5Pz2BRIprIYfqrRA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fstrainingfororiginality.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168209628628%2Fquintustheinvictus-a-savage-inconvenience-a&m=1) **

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> **YAAAAAAAAAAAAS!!!  I love it!!**


	124. Fan Art - It's Always Been You

  

**“It has always been you.”** | The Strain Fx fic ‘A Savage Inconvenience’ 

> _Quintus thought there were no new feelings, new experiences, new places, new people. Everything was just a rehash of something he’d already felt, seen, heard, smelled …_
> 
> _There hadn’t been anything **new** to experience in over a thousand years. Or so he thought … or so he had falsely assumed._
> 
> _But this? What she had done to him. This was something entirely different. Something entirely … **new**. She never wanted him to change, she never expected him to hide himself. She relished in his strength and she did not fear him. She challenged him constantly and then after he’d opened up her underlying secret, he had realized he was no longer alone.[…]_
> 
> _He had finally come to terms with the reality of this situation. That she was his … **and** … as terrified as he had been of it … **he was hers**. Completely. Utterly.  
>  _

_Chapter 16.7 Fruition_

 

_**Incredible Manip[quintustheinvictus@tumblr](http://quintustheinvictus.tumblr.com/post/162886823575/it-has-always-been-you-the-strain-fx-fic-a)** _


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